


Addiction

by ateverbti



Category: Thor - All Media Types
Genre: Addiction, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Assassination, Disturbing Themes, Domestic Violence, Dysfunctional Family, Dysfunctional Relationships, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, Family Drama, Guns, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Minor Character Death, Murder, Odin's Bad Parenting, Romance, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-26
Updated: 2013-08-01
Packaged: 2017-11-19 15:36:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 30,488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/574864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ateverbti/pseuds/ateverbti
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>" 'You're addicted.'</p><p>Three simple words that could be applied to so many things that were hanging in the air just above them. It would be easier to ask what Loki meant, but Thor knew the rules of this game. They played it for so long, that he didn't even imagine that this time would be different. And yet it was."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I want to thank Andae for beta reading and help with translation.

_I could use another cigarette._

The night was cold and rainy when he staggered back to the apartment. _Too many beers tonight._ That thought tumbled in his mind as he struggled to keep his balance while climbing the stairs. Hand-rail helped a bit but the world was swaying unpleasantly, gaining instability and losing everything else. _I could use a cigarette._ He reached into his pocket, the pack was empty. He must've smoked all of them in the pub. He'd be dying tomorrow morning, not only from hangover, but the headache from the smoke, too. He just hoped there were some cigarettes left in a house, one pack, left just in case. If only Loki had been with him now. He always had cigarettes but rarely was in a mood for sharing, telling Thor that he'd be addicted soon. Bullshit, he wasn't addicted. Sometimes he had a cigarette or two, only with beer or when he was nervous, but he didn't smoke regularly. Not an addiction, just a habit. But Loki wasn't here, he left some time ago, as always without saying goodbye. He always disappeared, Thor would wake up in an empty bed, empty flat. Recently he forced his brother to left a message, like the last time.

_I don't know when I'll be back._

He didn't write a single word more. Loki also had a habit of appearing in his life for a while, making a mess and leaving. But he always came back to Thor. A week, two, sometimes a month. But he always came back to him. For three years always the same, just as repetitive, mathematical formula. Perfectly calculated. Disappearing and reappearing after some time. Thor never asked why, he accepted this as a fact, obviously it was just the way between them. Sometimes he wanted it to be different, normal, but he wouldn't change it for anything else. Those short moments, when they were together again, in a small room, in silence.

He barely managed put the key in the lock, maneuvered with it a bit before he could open the door. Too much alcohol. Fortunately it was weekend and Volstagg offered to take his shift at work, otherwise he would have some trouble to stand straight at the door of the night club. A bouncer's job wasn't very exciting or promising, but it was better than sitting at home alone, or asking his father for help. He gave up on it a long time ago and preferred doing just about anything than deal with him. Sif told him that was all Loki’s fault, that he had to take all those problems upon himself and allowed himself to live only that, but Thor knew better. Some things were hard to understand, not to mention forgive. Just like these. He hadn't thought about it when he had packed his things and left home with one suitcase and nothing more.

The beginning was hard but he had his friends and his brother. He made do as well as he could. He found a job, a place to live. Left the university, but it was better that way. At least he could look himself in the eye himself again. And Loki, too. He didn't need anything else. And then Loki disappeared for the first time for a few days. He came back at last, without a word, just like nothing had happened. He brushed off every question. Thor let him. And from that day the cycle of his life remained the same. Partings and reunions. Loneliness and a few moments together. He understood. He just had to try, even as he clenched his fists in anger when left alone. But he waited for Loki because he knew that no one else will. Only Thor. He would ask him one day, for the hundredth time, why did it have to be like this. Maybe Loki would tell him the truth, finally. Would not lie that it was about a job. But not now.

The familiar smell of his brother aftershave. Thor shook his head. Impossible

_To many drinks tonight and I miss you._

Smell too clear to be a figment of an intoxicated mind. One more inhale.

“Loki?” He asked “Are you there?”

Silence. Emptiness. No breaths, no footsteps. He had to be mistaken. He didn't even want to count how many times it had been like that. He woke sometimes up in the night and called for his brother, feeling him somewhere close. Every time when he came back to his empty apartment he hoped to see him. But Loki was never there.

“Loki,” he whispered.

He was there before, Thor had been sure of it, the smell was still hanging around the place. This and a stifling smell of cigarette smoke from some time before. An empty mug, a plate with a remainder of a sandwich. Loki must have appeared for a second, grabbed something from the apartment and left. When Thor was lucky, they would see each other briefly. For one breath, one look.

He took some orange juice from the fridge, two aspirins from the cupboard. He would need them at the morning, better to be prepared. The bed was empty but someone had slept in it before. Creased sheets, a crumpled pillow. If he had been less drunk, he would have probably noticed a few black hairs on it. But now he was too tired, to dazed to see. Thor took off his clothes, threw them on the floor. He never cared about the being tidy. Not like Loki, who always folded every piece of clothing into perfect squares. This pedantry would have been almost unbearable from a stranger, but from Loki it didn't bother him. When they moved here together, Thor thought the he'd be forced to put everything in order, to clean every last speck of dust. Loki never said a word, never reprimanded him. He would wipe a cupboard in silence, again and again, removing microscopic dust particles. Then he would wash his hands until his pale skin was red. Then Thor would pull him from the bathroom by force and hold him until his brother stopped thinking about it.

He lay down. Even in horizontal position his head was still spinning. The ceiling was swaying as if it could fall on him. Every tiny scratch on plaster, every crack moved every few seconds. Thor shut his eyes closed, trying to get over it. Finally he fell asleep, praying that the morning would not be so horrible.

Headache was bearable at least until he opened his eyes. Light was too bright, his own breathing too loud in his own ears and the colours were still far too vivid.  He sighed heavily and reached for juice and pills. He swallowed it with difficulty, emptying the whole bottle at once.  Then he heard humming somewhere on the edge of his hearing and smelled fried bacon.

“Loki?” Thor called, rising on his elbows.

Ache in his temples was still intensive but a bit weaker now, when all he could think was that his brother was there.

“You are up.” The door creaked and he saw Loki.

He was a little paler and thinner, if it was possible at all, and looked a bit different from how they had seen each other for the last time, a few months ago. His dark hair was longer now, falling onto his shoulders. Cheekbones, sharper than usual, more prominent. And those shadows under his eyes.

“You came back,” Thor croaked falling on a pillow.

“You have a hangover,” Loki said, wrinkling his nose.

The smell of alcohol was still just as clear as the stench of cigarettes Thor had smoked before. He watched his brother draw the curtains, letting more sunlight in, and open the window. Fresh, cold air sobered him a little. Loki sat on the edge of the bed, little smile curving the narrow mouth. Slender fingers were suddenly tangled in blond hair. Thor hesitated, didn't know what to do. He saw something strange in Loki's green eyes, something he had never seen before. It wasn't fear, or sadness. That he could recognize, he saw it too many times in his brother’s eyes. No, it wasn't it. He sighed softly and put his hand on Loki’s neck, gently pulling his brother toward himself.  Thor knew Loki didn't share this sentiment, but he missed him too much to care now. To his surprise, Loki gave in and put his head on Thor’s chest, letting the warm touch splay on his back. They were quiet. Two breaths in the silence of the morning, which was too calm, too slow.

“It's good to have you here,” Thor said finally, stroking Loki’s back gently.

His brother didn't answer. Although perhaps he just did, silently releasing air from his lungs and hugging him gently. They remained like that for a short while before Loki moved away.

“I'm going to finish my coffee,” he said, brushing invisible dust off his t-shirt. “Take a shower, you need it.”

Thor nodded when his brother disappeared behind the door. He lay still for a moment, waiting for the worst headache to pass, and got up from the bad. It wasn't so bad, hangover still there but not as horrible as he had expected. Apparently Loki’s presence was a cure for everything.

Cold water drops fell on hot skin. It was easier not to think about it, take everything exactly as it was. Sometimes he even succeeded, but with each passing month it was getting harder and harder, with every moment without his brother. Thor had always too much thoughts under the shower and nothing ever came out of it.  He wasn't Loki, who had all the answers, who could pick the words that made sense. Thor could only keep quiet sometimes and hold his brother’s hand too hard as if he was afraid that Loki would vanish. They had been through this so many times.

When he walked into the tiny kitchen, Loki was leaning on the sill with a cigarette, blowing smoke through the open window. There were two cups of coffee on the table, still fresh, some sandwiches on a plate. A pleasant smell in the morning. Thor wasn't hungry, but he began to eat, not wanting anything to be wasted. Loki rarely did anything for him, almost never, so when he prepared breakfast, Thor would always eat it. It was hard for them to fit together in such a small room where they had tried to put every needed appliance. Sometimes, when they were both in the kitchen, they couldn't move without accidental touches. Just like now, when Loki finished his cigarette and wanted to leave. It was easy to grab his wrist when he accidentally touched Thor’s shoulder. Loki stopped mid-stride, giving him a quizzical look.

“Stay, I didn't see you for a long time.”

“You might as well look at me while I'm in the living room or on the balcony,” Loki muttered, but didn't move even an inch.

"I could use a cigarette."

“You're addicted,” Loki sighed quietly, but he picked up the pack and offered a cigarette to his brother.

“Not yet, maybe someday.”

First exhale, almost imperceptible euphoria, very delicate. It used to be different when the smoke got into his lungs, depriving him of breath. He felt so light, as if he could rise into the air in this one moment when he touched the cigarette. He closed his eyes, still holding Loki’s wrist. He felt steady pulse under his fingers, strong, uninterrupted. Smooth skin scarred by several thin lines, the scars he didn't want to remember, scars that shouldn't be there at all. Two old lines, still reminding him of what had happened. He pressed his thumb to the scar, as if his touch would make them disappear. He wanted to destroy them, forget them. But he could never forget. Before Thor opened his eyes, he felt a touch of cold, narrow mouth on his temple.

“Stop.” Loki’s voice was just a whisper near his ear.

“Loki...” Thor let go of his hand.

“ I'll be in the living room, come when you're done.”

He was alone again, even though he knew that Loki was near, only few meters away. He could still feel thicker marks under his fingers. Thor remembered them all too well, how tight he had wrapped a towel to stop the bleeding. White tiles in the bathroom had been stained red with blood, grouts probably were still. He didn't know, he had never came back there later. This had been the moment when he took their stuff and left the family home. Small lines, completely white, almost invisible on pale skin. Still, there were on it, a memory of what had happened. Impossible to erase. He didn't asked why Loki did it, he knew why even though he had never been told by his brother.

It started when Thor was fifteen. Their mother died, doctors said that aneurysm burst in her brain when she fell. She just fell and died one day. He received a message when he was at school. Thor vaguely remember packing his things, then a conversation with a headmaster so he could come home sooner. He didn't remember eighteen hours long bus trip. But the sight of his younger brother waiting for him at the station imprinted in his memory forever. Before he went to boarding school, he had never noticed the difference. Then, when he saw Loki in the pouring rain at the bus stop, his brother seemed smaller, much younger than in reality. He was silent all the time, even when Thor asked about the bruises on his brother’s arms. Thor didn't return to his boarding school, he stayed in a city. In the end he was a big brother after all.

He learned much later from where the bruises on Loki’s hands came, when they started appearing on his skin too. Scars, scratches, one or two broken bones. Whenever his father had a bad day or was upset when he returned from work. Or just because they were at home at the same time. When Thor was younger he was looking for reasons in himself or his brother. When he grew up he knew that any reason was good, even the lack of it. Fifteen years is not so much to defend himself, but it had to be enough for him. He did what he could to protect Loki, but it wasn't getting easier. His father drank more and more.  _Policeman’s sickness,_ he read online one time. Now he thought he could have reported it somewhere,  asked for help, but he was very scared then. Not for himself, he could manage. But Loki could not. His brother was always smaller, more sensitive, like his mother would say before she died. _You have to take care of him, to love him more than anyone, you know he_ needs _it._ He didn't understand why, but he listened to Frigga. Then he knew.

Odin was drunk that day. Drunk and angry. As always, there was no particular reason, because a cigarette smoked in secrecy by his brother couldn't be the cause of it. Thor came home a little later than usual, hoping that this time would be different from every Friday when his father finished the morning shift. It was worse. He didn't even manage to throw his backpack on the floor when he heard the sound of breaking glass. _You're like that junkie, that bitch who brought you into this world. You should have died then, on the street! It would be better for us all!_ Odin shouted, drunk, as  he beat Loki blindly. At the time Thor didn't think about what he heard, there was no time for that. When he overpowered their drunk father, he wanted to check on Loki, but his brother was nowhere near. It was quiet, too quiet. Even today he had no idea how he heard a quiet  sobbing from the bathroom, but he thanked all the gods that he did. That day changed everything

The cigarette burned out, forgotten in wide fingers. He left it in the ashtray. Took a deep breath. One, then another. He didn't want Loki to know, but his brother always knew everything. Thor came back to the living room. Loki was lying on the couch, watching the news. When he saw Thor, he made a room beside him. Thor sat next to him. He didn't know what to say. He could never find the right words when his brother came home. He didn't ask where he had been this time, knowing that he wouldn't get any answers. Talking about the weather also weren't that good. He  always whisper that he missed him, but then Loki’s eyes would became cold and he would just turn his head the other way. No, it was better to remain silent, to wait. TV was buzzing in the background, drowning out his thoughts. He didn't even notice when Loki was sitting close to him, leaning on his shoulder, keeping his narrow hand when his heart was.

“Where were you yesterday?” Loki had a pleasant voice, gentle when he wanted something, cold when he was angry.

Now he seemed to be calm, probably tired.

“In the pub. Fandral’s birthday.”

“Fandral.” An echo of his own words, a quiet sigh.

“When I got home… I thought… No, I felt that you came back, but you were not there.”

“I had to do something,” Loki said.

Thor wasn't sure if it was the answer to the unspoken question hanging in the air, or simply a statement of fact. He touched his little brother’s hair, they were longer than the last time. Now he could tangle his fingers in them. Something had changed, he just wasn't sure what. The conversation stalled. Of course, he could tell what he had been doing in the past months. Very long, lonely months, but Loki certainly knew it. It was always the same. Job, sometimes a concert, hanging out with friends. Nothing special. Without Loki nothing was special.  Thor lightly kissed Loki’s hair. As if he wanted to show him, without words, how much he had missed him. He didn't have to wait long for the answer. Pale hand tightened painfully on his wrist, nails  digging into the skin. Loki didn't draw blood, but there was pain. Thor hissed softly, feeling a sharp jolt. Then there were only cold lips  on marks etched into his arm.

“You're addicted.”

Three simple words that could be applied to so many things that were hanging in the air just above them. It would be easier to ask what Loki meant, but Thor knew the rules of this game. They played it for so long, that he didn't even imagine that this time would be different. And yet it was. When they were younger they shared secrets. Now they just exchanged single sentences in touch of hands or mouths. Thor thought  it was easier, but he knew that it wasn't. What did Loki talk about? Cigarettes? Maybe, he always said that Thor was an addict, no matter what the others believed. Alcohol? No, not really. He didn't drink a lot, even though he knew he shouldn't at all. He was afraid of becoming his own father one day. Loki always told him that he wouldn't, but fear still lasted somewhere in the deepest recesses of his mind, always there. Or maybe he was addicted to Loki? The words, gestures, touch. Yes, Thor thought it was about that.

“Apparently I am,” he said after a moment, this time sure of his answer.

Loki was like cocaine. Deadly and addictive from the first time. Thor didn't know when it all started. When his brother was no longer only his brother and began to be the air he breathed. Maybe it was a month after he closed the door of his father's house, and perhaps even earlier. It seemed like forever. They were inseparable, Thor took Loki with him everywhere, despite the protests of his friends. They even had one room, the other was empty, never used. At the beginning father tried to change that, in a subtle way, bringing all Loki’s things to another room. Thor, however, took them back and put them in places that seemed appropriate. He never wanted to be separated from his brother. They did everything together, first fight, first prank, first kiss. Then Odin sent Thor to boarding school, claiming that he should eventually grow up, and a younger brother would not help in that. The night before he left brothers spent together, holding hands. Thor made a thousand promises, none of which Loki believed. In the end Thor had to leave. He counted down seconds to their reunion. If only it hadn't been so painful, maybe everything would have been better. But Loki was like a drug, by which he had been intoxicated since their mother’s death. He let himself drown in lean arms, let narrow hand soothe the soreness, taken innocent  kisses from this smooth, soft mouth. Sif said that they were brothers, they should not share everything with each other, as if she knew all about it, but Thor was sure their secret was safe. Their dirty, little secret.  That feeling, something he couldn't share with anyone else. There was only Loki, his addiction, the greatest one.

Thor barely restrained himself not to ruin the moment of silence, when Loki sat snuggled up to him. Just as before, trusting, in his arms. He could feel the pleasant warmth of his brother's the body closeness, intimacy, which burned him from the inside, filling him with euphoria. He wanted more than fleeting breaths, connected, intertwined without words, but he couldn't dare. He had always feared that he exploited the situation. When it started, he told Loki how much he fear destroying the perfect crystal ball that surrounded them, protected they from the world, from other people.  Loki laughed then and pressed his lips to Thor’s, painfully, as if assuring him that it had just happened and it would never be a way to brought that back. He should never have started. He knew it wasn't true, but sometimes, even for a brief moment he wanted to fool himself into thinking that maybe if he acted otherwise, none of this would happen. Cold fingers touched his collarbone, brought him back to reality. Soft as silk, a strange feeling, which started a spark in his loins. The heat he longed for during so many months when he was alone. Pure chaos, when Loki’s hand slid across the hot skin, leaving angry red marks from his fingernails. Pain and chaos, intertwined with a sudden desire. Something dirty, disgusting, something that grew in him every time he wanted to utter a word of protest.

“I missed you,” he whispered instead, knowing what would happen next.

“You always miss me,” he heard the answer.

“And you?”

“Never,” a murmur of satisfaction. “I wonder what that says about me or about you.” A quiet laugh, bitter and unpleasant.

He was never prepared for it. The guilt that crept along his arms, when he was cradling his brother, when he was touching the bony hips, narrow figure. Their love was dirty, marked by blood and lies, which they repeated to others and to themselves. It was too easy to say that they were brothers. Too hard to understand that they had never been, and the feeling between them was far from fraternal bonds. They didn't stand a chance, either then or now, even though they couldn't stop it. Thor no longer could, like a drug addict who would kill for the next fix of euphoria. Loki couldn't stop, wanted to be drunk with half breaths from his brother’s open mouth. Thor knew that Loki fed on his affection, assertions that maybe hurt, but were truer that anything around them. Words were too simple, imperfect, just like gestures whenever they were close to each other. The easiest way was to hold breath, forget about heart beating.

 The kiss is sweet, exactly as he remembered. Still innocent, after all. Chaste. This shuts his thoughts, feelings about which he's never wanted to speak. Loki holds his chin in his fingers, painfully digging them in. But that is just the way between them, nothing will change that. There are sharp teeth on the skin of Thor’s neck and shoulder, as if Loki shouts with his whole being, mine. Mine. It’s so easy to surrender when he does that. Now everything seems to be right, even perfect. Thor is not patient, he's never been. He knows that here is too much anger in him, anger which he cannot let escape. Sometimes he just gives up, hits the wall with his fists until the knuckles are red and plaster is dripping blood. He cannot be patient, when all he's always wanted is just under his fingertips, so close that he just need to reach and take it. Loki is delicate, he seems to be fine as a porcelain doll in Thor’s hands, when he presses him to his chest. No one but him knows it is a lie, the façade that his brother's been able to create and maintain. In fact, Thor is sure that Loki could break his neck with his slender hands if he wanted. Younger brother’s lips are hot, so different from his cold body. Again, Thor wants to feel the chill on his fingertips. He takes off Loki’s shirt, navy blue one with stupid writing on it, one he's never managed to read. Creamy-white skin is almost perfect, if not for some scars. These Thor doesn't know, they don't belong to him, to his memory. He doesn't know when they occurred and what created them. He doesn't ask. Instead, he kisses each one, getting used to the idea that Loki has something that won't be shared. Hidden. Adrenaline hits his head again, oxytocin and serotonin replace rational thought. Euphoria is erasing guilt and shame.

“Touch me,” Loki says.

His voice sounds like a request, a plea, but Thor know better that it isn’t. Loki never asks, he speaks and just get what he wants. In the half lidded eyes he sees everything when long arms are wrapped around him and lips and tongue on his neck seals something he never understands. There is something final when they cross the last barrier, but they’ve done it many times. Still, it feels as if it was the first time. The moment of hesitation, as always, when he looks for confirmation in his brother’s eyes, for love. He knows he'll find it. Despite everything that is sick and dirty between them, this moment of understanding and desire is pure and true. Loki is no longer wearing a mask of indifference, he keeps his eyes closed so tightly that Thor cannot even see the lines dividing his eyelids. Breath dances on his lips. He reaches to touch him, to remember how smooth and soft his skin is compared to his rough one. Now it’s the only time when world around them doesn’t exist. There is no pain, no memories or broken bones that healed wrong many years ago. Only Loki and Thor. A few faster hand movements until his brother is only himself, nothing more.  Slender, cool fingers that give pleasure. They’ve been apart for too many months, too many for Thor to last as long as he wanted to. To be sweet and gentle. Instead, it’s fast and rough. Kisses draw blood, but Thor wants it as much as his brother does. Once he was afraid that they harm each other using moments like that to forget what had happened before, but now he knows it’s not true.

“That’s right,” a muffled groan comes from the narrow mouth. “I’ll kill you if you stop.”

“I’ll kill you, if you stop,” it’s so easy to be an echo of Loki’s words.

There is no time for a gentle touch, sweet caress. He thinks it's never been. Faster and faster to the threshold of pain. Hands are gliding along, more brutal. In the end it's just Loki's quiet hiss and Thor's louder one. Sperm on hands, between the fingers, suddenly entwined together. Sticky touch on abdomen and warmth that burns invisible marks on their bodies.

“You’re heavy.” Loki pushes him away, still breathing hard, his fingers smearing the liquid on Thor’s skin. “And dirty.”

“You too.” Thor shakes his head, understands the meaning hidden behind spoken words too well.

“Later…” Loki starts and stops for a moment, wondering. “Later, I want you to be inside me so I can’t forget.”

“I will.”

A kiss is innocent again, barely touching the lips.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always big "Thank you, you're the best" ti Andae for checking mistakes and beta -reading.

_Returns were always easier than parting._ He lied to himself when he turned the key for the hundredth time. He had never been sure if the lock would be the same. Thor could have got enough of it and got rid of Loki from his life after all.  He had the right to do so. They weren’t together, not really, although for Loki it seemed more real than anything else. He always held his breath as he entered the usually empty apartment. He had been specifically choosing hours in which his brother wasn't there. Then he sat down in the kitchen, took a crumpled pack of cigarettes from his pocket and waited. He liked this place, it reminded him of the old house, of the family he had lost. A mother and a father. Here, there was only Thor. His brother who wasn’t really a brother, but that was enough. He wondered how much longer his brother could withstand his escapes, notes left on the cabinet in the bedroom. Words written with a skilled hand, sometimes skewed when it was shaking too much. Forced. He didn’t understand why he had to do it, it didn’t make sense, after all it never changed anything. He always left without saying goodbye, hoping that when he got back, the lock in the door would be the same, and Thor would as always tell him that he had missed him. Thor had never been able not to tell him that, as if fire was burning in his throat and he had to let it out so it wouldn’t burn him from the inside. Longing. Loki lied that he never felt it, that it was such a silly sentiment. They were adults after all, why should they play such foolish games? But it was in him, a strange twinge in his chest every time he thought about his brother. If only those thoughts wouldn’t tangle with the others, those which were unwanted, pulling in the darkness in the back of his mind.

He never said for how long he would disappear and how long he would stay at home. He did not have to explain what he was doing and why their life had to look like this. He couldn’t share some things even with Thor. New scars, nightmares at night, envelopes with pictures. Loki would call it selfishness. He wasn’t protecting  his brother, he was not as much of a hypocrite and a fool to thinking that. If something went wrong, nothing and no one would ensure their safety. No, it was something different, simpler. If he told Thor, explained to him, his brother would try to stop him. And he probably would succeed in it. Loki always listened to his older brother, even if he claimed otherwise. He listened when Thor made him promise that he would never slash his wrists again.

Loki did it only once. The mirror broke in one hit. Pieces fell to the floor with a quiet clatter. He took one of them between his fingers, suddenly feeling an irrational fear of injury. Then he looked at it from all sides, sharp, jagged edges. Ideal for cutting the skin and muscles. And then he buried it in his wrist, a short cut, almost painless. He didn’t feel the second one as the tears were flowing down his cheeks.  Loki didn’t even hear his own sobbing and Thor's frantically muttered words. Now, he was moving his fingers on the raised, straight lines, which had healed remarkably cleanly. Elegant, almost invisible traces.

 Returns were always more difficult than parting. Especially now, when all he could think about was warm breath on his cheek and broad arms he buried himself into. This time he was lucky. There were no questions, only explanations, “I missed you,” said quietly by his brother. They would pick up broken pieces tomorrow, everything would be normal again. Thor would go to work, Loki would follow his every step. Making up for every month alone. But that would be tomorrow. Today, it was still difficult to be side by side again, to feel the warmth of the body pressed against his back. Thor was quiet, at least for those few hours, he knew that was what Loki needed. After many sleepless nights, sleep came quickly when Loki finally felt safe, when he knew that someone loved him. But for how long?

When he woke up the sun was setting. At first he looked nervously around the room, not feeling his brother behind him. He calmed down after a few seconds when he heard the sound of water running in the bathroom. Slight smile came back to his face, everything was as it should be. He stretched out on the coach, bones cracked quietly. He wanted to be lazy, avoid getting up yet, but it was stronger than him. It was still messy around him. Nothing had changed when he had fallen asleep next to Thor. His brother could never keep this place clean, leaving dirty clothes everywhere, mugs he forgot to wash. Usually Loki just smiled wryly and without saying a single word picked things up from the floor, straightened a blanket on a bed and curtains that had rolled up again. Now it wasn’t different. He stood up, dressed quickly, putting aside the dirty t-shirt, and began his daily ritual. He gathered dishes scattered around the house, even in the bedroom. Thor had never learnt to put them in the sink. Loki tried to explain it to him, asked a few times, but his brother usually forgot about it, so he had to clean it himself. Then clothes, those luckily were a little less messy. He threw them into the washing machine, not paying attention to his brother, who was just taking a shower. He would tell him later that he didn’t notice his smile, that’s why he didn’t do anything. The truth was different, he saw everything but now something else was on his mind. Organizing chaos. He could not control his life or his body, so he could try to control the place he was in. And keeping order was the best way. He aligned bedspreads to the millimetre, put dishes in the cupboard, folded clothes in perfect squares. Only the grouts in a bathroom were still a little dirty. Yellowish. Maybe it was just light. No, it wasn’t. Dirt. He crouched down to look more closely.

 “Loki,” he heard over himself. “Leave it.”

“They’re dirty.” He shrugged and brushed his finger over one of them. “It will take me just a while.”

“Leave it,” suddenly there was a strong grip on Loki’s arm, a hand pulling him up. “Tomorrow.”

“I should...”

“Tomorrow.” Thor's voice was soft as if he spoke to a small child. “You’ll do it tomorrow, and I’ll help you with it. Now, take a shower, eat something, and then we go out somewhere. Maybe to the pub or something?”

“You want to meet with someone there?” He asked, clearly irritated when he stepped up to the shower cabin.

“No, I don’t.”

“So why the pub?” Loki turned on the water, a glacial stream directly on the hot flesh.

“It can be a cinema,  a park or a pub. Whatever you want, but you will not clean that damn floor with your toothbrush. Because I know you will, if we stay here a bit longer.”

“It’s dirty,” he answered. “Me too,” he added reaching for the soap.

He felt that he could never clean filth from his hands, sweat from his body. It would always be at least a small patch of dirt on it. He rubbed the skin on his arms harder. They were still filthy. Dirty water was disappearing into the drain. He rubbed until his body began to redden. The pain was easier to bear than dirt and chaos around him and in him. He forgot himself once again, hissing under his breath when again her drove his nails into the pale body.

Thor must have heard, but Loki did not know how this could happen. He was quiet, and the water should have drowned all the sounds. But now his brother was standing behind him, holding him tightly by the wrists, pressing his lips to irritated skin of his shoulders. Thor’s delicate touch was now unpleasant and painful. Loki jerked out again, trying to drove his nails into his hands, tore off a layer of dirt.

“Why are you doing this, Loki…” He could not get out of the embrace, he did not want it.

Loki lowered his head, looking at the water disappearing in the drain. His feet, floor. He looked at everything else, just not to see his brother’s eyes, now dark with sorrow.

“You know why. You know that.”

“Come on, we’ll go somewhere.” Thor pulled him out of the cabin and walked into the bedroom.

Loki avoided his gaze while he looked for some clothes that would be suitable. Thor didn’t want to look at him but he didn’t turn his head, determined not to leave him alone at that moment. It must’ve been difficult to him, seeing Loki hurting himself, trying to maintain control. Then he clenched his fists and forced himself to remain silent, to just be near Loki, without any words that could destroy what was between them. Loki didn’t tell him, but he was grateful. For the dedication, of which he would never be capable.

***

He didn’t know this place, Thor must have found it when he wasn’t in town. At first he wanted to protest, but his brother insisted, claiming that he'd like the pub. Loki hated it when Thor was right. As soon as they entered, he completely forgot what he wanted to say. The place was rather cosy. There were a few tables, each separated by a sort of a screen, or a low partition wall. All wooden. Sketches and watercolour pictures were hanging on the walls, crookedly. The pub smelled good, of flavoured tobacco and fine Scotch whiskey. Near the bar there were the stairs, apparently leading to a lower floor, but Loki shook his head when Thor offered to come down. Jazz was oozing of the speakers hanged on the ceiling, sound was a bit cracky. In some places there were small lamps, shaded by green cloth embroidered with golden Celtic designs. Loki immediately choose a place that seemed the best to him. A table  in the furthest corner, sheltered from the rest by back benches, on which lay some red pillows. There was a dim light bulb, blinking from time to time, as if it couldn’t decide whether it wanted to work or to shut down. He sat against the wall, his fingers touched the surface of the table. Wood, which was scratched a bit, so it wasn’t in one colour. Splinters easily slipping under the nails, rough pieces of lacquer on the fingertips.

“What do you want? A beer?”

“Mulled wine,” he muttered under his breath, “with cinnamon.” He thought for a moment. “And something sweet. Do you think they have chocolate here?”

“I’ll ask.”

Loki watched him, as he approached the bar. Again, Thor had longer hair, he always forgot to cut it. Fool. Tight muscles on the broad back visible even under a loose shirt. He looked at his own hands and forearms. Slender, delicate and strong, though only Thor knew about it. They weren’t so different as much as everyone assumed. It was just a façade, a mask, nothing more. He smiled faintly when his brother put a steaming cup of wine and a bar of chocolate in front of him. The porcelain was hot, pleasantly warming his cold hands. Thor sat down beside him and put a hand on his knee. Loki looked around, suddenly worried.  No one noticed, they probably even didn’t look their way. He knocked his brother’s hand away reluctantly. It was necessary, no one could know.

“You didn’t have to do that,” Thor said, taking a long sip of his beer.

“Don’t start it,” he said, pulling out a cigarette. “And no, I’m not ashamed of you, I know you would say that in a moment. I just don’t want you to get in trouble. And before you open your mouth again to say what you’re going to say, I know you will get in trouble if any of your friends find out about it. They won’t understand, you know that.”

“They don’t need to, I don’t care,” Thor shrugged.

“Do we need to have this conversation again?” Loki frowned, irritated. “It will end up as always.”

“Fine.”

“And here we go again.” He shook his head. “Now you’re angry with me, then you will be angry with yourself.  And after that you'll say I was right”.

“Maybe this time I am right?”

“About the place? Yes. About this conversation? Never. Leave it, Thor. I don’t want to argue, not today.”

They both fell silent, listening to melancholic song that came from the speakers right above their heads. If not for this, the silence would be unbearable. He hadn’t have patience to knock away his brother’s hand when Thor touched his arm or hair. Fortunately, this time he was much more discreet. Loki didn’t even want to think how it would end if he allowed more. In the others' eyes they were still brothers,  explaining their situation would not help at all. He didn’t mind himself, it was not for him. Loki was able to adapt to everything. Perhaps after some time hurtful words or interested  glances it would cease. He wouldn’t even mind taking all the blame. But Thor wouldn’t deal with it well. He was always perfect, everybody loved him. And Loki broke him, stained him. He almost laughed at the thought. If all these hypocrites knew what had really happened. Who started this. Suddenly he moved away from Thor a bit. His brother lifted his head to ask why, but the answer came quickly in the form of Sif and Hogun, who just entered the pub.

Loki had known them for a long time. Their childhood friends. No, Thor’s friends. They’d never liked Loki, tolerated him probably because of his brother, who never left him alone. Sif was his age, but beside that they didn't have much in common. She was loud, irresponsible a bit and fond of fun, whatever it meant. Thor always believed that they would come to terms, even when the situation began to get out of control. Sif claimed that Loki was a pathological liar and the only thing he always did well was getting his brother in trouble.  And she was jealous of Thor’s attention and devotion to Loki. Maybe she felt something under her skin even then, that would explain the growing resentment and words shouted in Loki’s face when the brothers left family home together. She had never repeated them, but maybe she just thought that the whole world already knew whose fault it was. Loki didn’t even try to understand, analyse as he usually did. No, he just called her a stupid bitch.

With Hogun things were a bit different. He was usually silent, didn’t say anything nasty to Loki but his eyes were telling more than words could express. His very presence was making Loki sick to the bone. But Thor liked him, so Loki couldn’t do anything. He tolerated Hogun, just like that fat fool whose favourite pastime was devouring monstrous amount of food, and that stupid prince charming who boasted about his amorous conquests. Maybe for Thor they were faithful friends, excellent companions, but to Loki they were nothing. Like dirt beneath his boots, which he wanted to get rid of immediately. He didn't even have to force a smile, his lips curled in a perfect parody of it.

“Thor.” Sif came up to their table. “Good to see you. You haven't called since the weekend.”

She ignored Loki, didn’t even look at his direction. Stupid bitch, always looking at his brother in a way he could throw up from.

“He was busy,” Loki said before Thor could utter even single word. “Hello, Sif, long time no see.” He gave her another smile, even colder than the previous one. “Would you join us?”

Thor would probably try to protest, but a sharp pain in his ankle reminded him to be quiet and not ruin everything.

“You weren’t in the city, that’s why we couldn’t meet.” She was trying to be calm, but her body language betrayed too much.

She clenched her fingers into her short coat, nails digging into the material. For Loki, it was funny, how to infuriate adult woman with a few simple, polite words. It was easy just to smile and talk then. Easy to ask about her life, to invite her to a table and provoke some more. Pull Sif's dirt to the surface, to show his brother what she really was. He always thought about is as a some kind of game in which he put pawns and moved them all over the chessboard. Sif was a difficult puppet, she was tugging at her strings, sometimes even able to break away, but Loki never stopped trying. The stakes were high, higher each passing month.

Sif sat down, Hogun joined her after a while. Loki kept them in his sight, not losing it even for a moment, recording their every move, gesture and breath. It was exciting in some way.

“I came back yesterday. Sif.” Her name in his mouth sounded like an insult. “You didn’t leave me any messages. I was almost offended.”

“Yes,” she pursed her lips trying to smile. “It’s nice that you missed me.”

“The feeling is reciprocated,” he laughed.

“Thor, how are you feeling after last night? You and Fandral drank a whole keg. We were worried whether you could get back home on your own.”

She ignored Loki. For him, it was the first small victory this evening. He took a cigarette, now focused on Hogun, while listening to the ongoing conversation between Sif and his brother. He would use her words against her later, when he was alone with Thor. Every time the barrier between her and his brother rose a little. It was easier to create some more of it, to twist what she had said, show everything in a different light. He didn’t want to lie to Thor, but in this case it was almost righteous. He could not allow anyone to stand between them again, to even try. Thor belonged to him, as he belonged to Thor. In this equation, there was no room for other variables.

He talked with Hogun for a while, snatching scraps of sentences from the silent man, more for fun than knowledge. Hogun wasn’t a threat, at least not as much as Sif. He and Thor started to drift away from each other when Hogun went to the police academy. Loki remembered that moment and couldn’t believe his luck then. It was too perfect, but it turned out to be true after all. Hogun didn’t even realize how huge favour he had done to Loki, so now it was easy to be nice to him, of course not above his standards. He offered him indifferent courtesy and gained the exact same thing in return. It worked. He was still listening to other conversation though. Lamp lights cast soft shadows on his brother’s face. Thor smiled. He shouldn’t have. Loki yawned discreetly.

“I think I’ll head home. I’m tired.”

“It’s still early,” his brother protested, but when he met his gaze, he quickly realized. “You’re right, we should be going,” he nodded.

“Come on, Thor. Loki is no longer a child. He can walk home and go to bed alone,” Sif snorted. “You don’t have to sing him lullabies.”

“He has a terrible voice,” Loki shrugged and got up. “You’re really lucky that you’ll never gonna hear it,” he said smiling innocently. “It was good to see you again. I hope we meet soon, before I leave.”

“Certainly,” Hogun said softly. “We wouldn’t miss it for a world.”

 _It is getting better and better,_ sounded somewhere in his head, but he didn’t bother when Thor also got up.

“See you tomorrow at work, Sif,” his brother’s smile was genuine and real.

Loki would wipe it off his face tonight.

He held his hand as they walked down the almost empty street. Now, where there weren’t any watchful eyes of Thor’s friends, he could afford a little bit more. _Paranoia. I’m paranoid._ He repeated several times to himself, but it only helped for a while. He would refuse those simple gestures soon, and left them for the time they were truly alone. Others were always judging him, waited for the slightest mistake, small slip to use it later against him. _Against us._ He corrected himself immediately. His older brother’s hand was large and very warm. Fingers intertwined together. Loki liked it, rough skin, thicker on the inner side of his hand, on the fingerpads. He said once that that Thor has hands of a warrior or a soldier. Strong and reliable. Just like those muscular, broad shoulders, in which Loki always felt safe, even though he hated that feeling. It reminded him of his own weakness, of the fear always present in every second of his life. Street light cast long shadows on their own, white light. When he was younger, Loki was afraid of the dark. He believed monsters lived there, always ready to jump and tear his throat apart. He knew it wasn’t true, he had grown out of childhood nightmares long time ago. Those phantoms were replaced by something much more real.

“She hates me.” He stopped for a moment, looked at his reflection in a shop’s window.

“That’s not true, Loki.” Thir gripped his hand tighter, trying to calm him down, maybe to prove something to him. “I know you don’t like her, but…”

“You saw her eyes when she was looking at me.” Loki pursed his lips.

He was good at lying to himself, to convince about things that didn’t exist.

“It wasn’t like that.” Thor shyly hugged his brother, not knowing if Loki would agree to such an intimate gesture in public. Well, almost in public.

“You don’t remember what she said back then?” He hissed through clenched teeth. “That it was all my fault. Mother’s death, father’s drinking, you giving up your studies. She screamed to my face that my lies brought this, that I destroyed your perfect life.” His knuckles were white, although it was hard to imagine while his skin was so pale.

“Loki.” Thor kept him in his arms. “She was angry, she didn’t mean that”.

“Yes, she did!” He snapped still clinging at Thor.

“I think she was just confused.” Thor’s warm hand came close to his chin, fingers gently lifted it so he could look Loki in the eyes. “You’ve never done anything wrong, brother. It was only his fault, never yours.”

He smiled faintly, soon there would be more cracks like that in Thor’s and Sif’s friendship, cracks that would be very hard to ignore. It was enough to look into those blue eyes, now full of sorrow, to celebrate the small victory. However, Loki wasn’t happy, not really, when he saw signs of pain in Thor’s eyes. He never wanted to hurt his brother. On the contrary, he always wanted to protect him from the others. And he was good at it. He would move Sif away, that bitch, fucking whore, who could destroy everything he had.

He was always good at lying to others, but he was far better at lying to himself. Just like the first time he left. He was walking around unknown streets, trying to get away from memories and from his brother, who was too good for him. It was a strange chain of events, completely unrelated, which led him to a new point of his life. A dealer, a fight, and then the middle of the shooting which he survived only thanks to the help of a random man. Loki had never thought that his world would get even more horrible and dark than that. Svadilfari cut only one tangled string, apparently the most difficult to tear, and transformed it into something special. Into precision. Loki believed him, although he never trusted him. Svadilfari was much older than him, just above forty, but he didn’t treat Loki like a student. He gave him something like a paternal affection, more that Loki had ever got from Odin. Loki learned to shoot, it wasn’t difficult as it seemed to be. He always was a good learner. It was easy to train his fingers, hands and whole body, especially that he willingly devoted each free moment for it. At that time he thought it was the best option, to learn how to defend himself and his brother.  But it was never about defence. He could convince himself for as long as it was necessary, but he never could believe it, not really.

The first task was simple, a single shot in the head of a victim from a hundred yards distance, just after the man left the building. Then he had to quickly gather his things and escape from the crime scene. The smoother, the better.

_He put his bag on the floor and looked around the empty room. Building was to be demolished a few hours after his task, so he did not have to worry about leaving traces. He didn’t want to take any unnecessary risk. Of course he didn’t believe in TV show fiction, in which they always managed to pull out the evidence even from rubbish, but he did believe in coincidences. It was easier to avoid it when he was cautious about himself and his environment. He even selected appropriate clothing: ordinary sneakers, which Walmart sold in thousands every single day, t-shirt, jeans and a sport bag in which he kept his gun. And also gloves. Simple, black ones, like a second skin. He slid the shades up his nose, the day was sunny, any reflection on the tin roofs could blind him, the risk was not worth taking._

_The job was simple, at least it looked like from the dossier he received from Svadilfari. Duke Johnson, age: thirty-eight, owner of a pharmaceutical company Mirage Cosmetics. Short, grey-haired man in a very expensive suit was smiling at him from the photo. He was rather thin, so Loki assumed that he had only one chance, because after the first missed shot two bodyguards would immediately cover their employer. One shot, one opportunity. If he succeeded, he would be able to learn more. He shook his head, hid the data in the envelope and took out a piece of thin foil from his bag. He spread in on the floor, smoothing the edges, always perfectly accurate and pedantic in his behaviour. When the sheet looked fairly good, he pulled out a gun and some other parts of it. Moments later, agile, nimble fingers were installing optical sight. Svadilfari chose him a police sniper rifle, Remington M24, due to its high accuracy and reliability than less popular in the U.S. FN A5 M It was heavier and Loki wasn't sure if recoil wouldn't break his shoulder, but after a few weeks of training he started to treat a weapon as an extension of his arm. He was surprised that he got used to it so easily, and how good he was at it. “Natural talent,” he heard a few times. He wanted it to be different. But life wasn’t fair, was it? It gave its gifts to very wrong people. This one came into extremely wrong hands. Loki weighted the rifle, about eight kilograms with full magazine and sight. He could pack it quickly if he had to, so during escape weight wouldn’t be a problem._

_He spared a glance to his watch, just in fifteen minutes Johnson would left the hotel through its main entrance, and then Loki would have exactly twenty seconds to take aim and shoot him in the head. Wind blew faintly from the east, the angle of weapon should be thirty-nine degrees at such distance and weather conditions. He had calculated all the possible alternatives, not allowing himself to make the slightest mistake. Loki leaned his elbows on the wooden window sill, previously cleared so nothing could distract him, and he waited._

_Killing seemed to be as simple as two plus two.  Taking aim thoroughly enough and pull the trigger. A shooter was not allowed to hold his breath, his hand would shake too much from lack of oxygen, which often caused a strange euphoria. One shot, one breath. Body had to be stable as a heartbeat. Everything was based on the precision and the moment of pulling the trigger. Shooting was simple, killing as well. At first he thought he wouldn’t hold a heavy gun in his lean arms, that recoil would break his bones or hit his shoulder painfully, but nothing like this ever happened. Technically, he was well prepared for the task. Mentally, he had no choice. Loki thought he would be afraid but he didn’t know whether he was confusing fear with a sudden adrenaline rush. The feeling, in his case, was quite different than to normal people. Loki never claimed to be normal. He glanced through the sight, only one minute and his target would be in a place. Deep breath, one, two. The door opened and the man walked out with two bodyguards. “Breathe”. He aimed and pulled the trigger, on the exhale. The shot was precise, his body didn’t move in the process of doing it. Duke Johnson fell to the ground with a small hole in the middle of his forehead. Euphoria hit Loki too fast and too hard. He packed his bag quickly, rolled the foil and slowly left the building. After a few minutes he removed his gloves that could blow the cover which he had prepared so carefully. No one would suspect a young man with a sports bag, who was likely going to the gym or to class. The entrance to the hotel got crowded, from a distance Loki could hear and ambulance and a police siren. He went through the crowd, and spared a glance to the results of his work. The man was dead, he was sure of it. In the end it would be hard to survive the loss of half of the brain, now smeared on the pavement. He smiled and disappeared in the crowd of New Yorkers._

_When he reached the safe place, he vomited for several hours._

_After that, it was a bit easier._

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wish to thank Miedziany for help with translation and Andae for beta reading :)

He grabbed him tighter by the arm, suddenly uncertain, frightened. Thor shook his head and took his younger brother’s hand. Loki looked around, their flat was quite close, maybe one street away,  just ten minutes of walking. Otherwise he would have never allowed it, but now he could allow such a gesture, and wanted it too. He smiled faintly, too faintly for Thor to see. It was just right, the two of them, without all other people who just wasted oxygen, because they were too stupid to do anything more. Finally, Loki quickened his pace, trying to get home as soon as possible. Thor did not ask, apparently accustomed to Loki’s different moods, he just stopped paying attention to them. Loki wanted it to be different, he wanted Thor to yell at him, shake him, bring to reality. He wanted him to fight for Loki, but Thor gave up. He hung a white flag and did almost everything that Loki asked, although many times everything in him screamed. Dedication. Something that Loki was never able to feel. First droplets of rain fell to the ground,  small ones,  too small to cool overheated streets and sidewalks. Before it started to pour, they were already at the door. Thor was looking slowly for his keys. The spark in Loki’s mind that suddenly erupted into flame had wiped out all other thoughts except one. _Mine, you’re mine._

A second was enough for Loki, the door slammed behind them and he pushed his older brother to the wall. Thor didn’t even protest when Loki pulled the collar of his t-shirt harshly, tearing the piece of cloth. He dug his short nails into the arms of his brother, hearing soft hiss from Thor’s mouth. That was right, better than it could ever be. He needed it, Thor’s lips, ragged breath, warm, large hands touching his body. He wanted to hide in his brother. The kiss was short, teeth scrapped Thor’s lower lip, cut delicate skin. Salty, slightly metallic taste of blood on his tongue, like a drug.

Blood. Thor’s eyes darkening in an instant. It’s like the taste of red droplets on his chin awakened something new. Loki loves it. He loves when his brother loses control because of him. This means that Thor belongs only to him, that one word will be enough and that always will be only the two of them, no one else. Loki loves power, which he paradoxically has over his brother in such moments. Still holding his brother’s shirt, he pulls him into the bedroom, impatiently. Strong hands stop him, Thor’s fingers tightening on his hips when rough, dry lips are right on his neck. Hot breath irritates the skin, because Loki wants more, he wants everything. But now, everything that counts is what Thor needs.

“Do you remember?”

“Yes,” the answer is more like a groan than an actual word.

He feels Thor’s grip on his throat, careful, but enough to make Loki run out of air for a moment. Serotonin hits harder than usual. He is writhing in Thor’s arms for a while, wanting to get rid of his shirt. Finally piece of cloth ends up on the floor, forgotten after a second, and his brother’s lips are now on his collarbone. Strong bites will surely leave marks. He doesn’t care, Loki wants to be marked, he wants to know who he belongs to. Clumsily he tugs Thor’s belt. The smell of sweat mixed with something new intoxicates him. How easy it is to turn the roles in his head. Change rage and jealousy into submission and desire. Thor reads his mind. He must know, because he puts his hand on Loki’s neck, the other one pulling his pants. Lack of oxygen is only temporary, but it is enough to stop his protests, to be a porcelain doll in his brother’s strong hands. Thor lets him go after a moment and kneels before him.

“What are you doing?”, Loki hisses angrily, this is not what he wanted.

“Shut up”, a strong bite on his hip silences him for a while “Either you scream my name or be silent. Nothing more, you understand?”

Loki doesn’t have the courage to speak, he just nods. He lets out a quiet groan when moist tongue draws lines on his tight, so close and yet so far. Both hands are pressed to the wall, painfully. Wrists twisted in an unnatural position. The pain is something unusual but fascinating. He want Thor to destroy him, break, but he knows that his brother is just too good for that. Thor would never harm him, so the touch suddenly becomes softer. Fingertips glide gently along the white lines, hate scars, signs of his weakness. Lips close around him, hot and wet. Breath accelerates, hips moving on their own. Loki doesn’t control his body anymore, he doesn’t need to, when Thor keeps him in place. If it hadn’t been for the touch, his knees would have given up and he would have fallen to the ground. He looks at his brother with half-closed eyes, golden hair tickle his skin. He does not want to let it go, but he feels that he is so close.

“Thor… Thor!”, he shouts.

Thor raises his head, licks his lips, still damp and red. Loki tries to reach him, to feel even the smallest tough, friction he knows he needs to reach the top. But instead it’s just the cool evening air. His brother grabs him by the arm and pulls over. Loki is like a puppet, possessed with only one thought. Thor throws him on the bed and kneels between his legs, parting them widely. Loki tightens his lips, he can’t beg anymore, he can only scream Thor’s name. Cold, slippery fingers are suddenly there and it feels good as pain still sparks around. Only two. Thor breathes faster, gently kissing the reddened skin around the bite on Loki’s hip. He is subtle, not in a hurry, teasing him, torturing him. Another spark and everything disappears for a moment, blank white space in him and out of him.

“Thor, please.”

“Please what?”, he asks with a voice colder than usual “What do you want?”.

“In me. Fuck! Now!”

“Anything you want, Loki.”

A kiss on his lips isn’t sweet, there is a fight between them. Thor steals his cries, his breath, when suddenly he’s in. Deep. Loki enlaces him, sticking nails in Thor’s back, leaving red marks that tomorrow will sting like hell, but none of them seem to care. Thor is in him, with him. And Loki is no longer able to formulate even a single, simple thought. His brother is strong, fingers on his hips are leaving painful bruises that will bloom with colours in the morning. Hands almost crushing him, as if Thor had something to prove, and this is the only way he can. Scream dies on his lips, when Thor goes in once again, reaching that place, a tiny bundle of nerves that takes Loki’s breath away. He hears silly confessions, sweet words,  which might mean something, but not now. They’re struggling together, trying to say what they cannot, and never will.

“You’re mine.”

Loki wants to laugh when he hears the echo of his words in his own head. Thor is just like him, ruined and broken. The first born son, always perfect, turns out to be like Loki. He is the same when he is screaming reaching the top, he is just like a younger brother while he holds Loki tightly in his arms.

When Loki finally gets his release, he loosens his grip, body limps on a soft bed, pressed against the slippery satin.

“And you’re mine, Thor.”

“Yes, my brother.”

Again, there is silence, broken only by their breaths, and long, lazy kisses. Loki trembles in his brother’s arms, exhausted. Thor gently strokes his hair. For a short time, a second hanged in eternity, they don’t need words to understand everything. Loki and Thor fall asleep in each other’s arms. Their secret is safe.

***

Thor woke up in the morning, the first rays of sun broke through the window’s blinds. He stretched a bit. This time, he slept quite well, although less than usual. Perhaps Loki’s presence really made everything better. But the bed was empty, the pillow next to him still warm though. His brother had to get up few minutes ago. He heard a quiet clink of cups and blessed thin walls. Every morning, he was afraid that Loki would disappear again, leaving him alone for God knows how long. It was six in the morning. Only five hours of sleep, and he felt like he has been asleep for days. Thor was about to get up when he heard his brother.

“Don’t get up yet, it’s early.”

Loki entered the bedroom, holding two cups of coffee and a small cardboard box under his arm. As always he looked perfect. He had to wake up a while before Thor. Loki had short hair again, smoothly combed back, even his shirt and jeans were perfectly ironed. He put the coffee on a small table and gave Thor a box of donuts, smiling apologetically. One of those smiles that Thor loves the most. At such times, he had the impression that everything was as before, that they didn’t go through terrible, long years in a house with always drunk and abusive father. Loki sat on the edge of the bed, he tangled narrowed fingers in long, blond hair and kissed Thor’s forehead.

“You’re awake, I thought that I will have a few hours for myself”, he said feigning disappointment.

“Yeah, right. If you wanted me to sleep, you wouldn’t get up either”, he put his hand in his brother’s neck “You have cut your hair.”

“They were too long”, Loki shrugged “I know you like them. I will grow them someday.”

 _Someday._ The answer to all the questions he asked. The spoken one, and those that Loki had never heard. Now he didn’t even want to think about it, didn’t want to spoil the calm, almost perfect morning with his complaints. Donuts were sweet, dripping with icing, the sprinkles were crumbling, staining his fingers and falling on the sheets. Coffee was bitter and hot, as the perfect contrast. Loki was lying next to him, leaning on his elbow, playing with a bright lock of hair. He wrapped it around his finger, pulled lightly, not to cause pain. A rare moment, in which he was gentle and soft. Thor’s friends were always saying that Loki was weak, frail, so very thin, but Thor knew the truth. The younger brother was stronger than anyone assumed, hard muscles hidden just under the skin, where there was hardly an ounce of fat. The narrow, smooth hands. Hands that could throw Thor against the wall and bed. Under the mask of weakness there was much more power than anyone could have imagines. Now, however Loki’s eyes were bright green and calm.

“You will never learn how to eat properly”, Loki muttered and reached for his chin, whipping the rest of icing “Zero grace.”

“And you’re always perfect”, he groaned but it was more jokingly than ironic “You eat like a girl from a good family. Tiny bits. I don’t even know on what you are feeding. Air?”

“Perhaps. At least I don’t eat like I’m starving”, Loki teased him. “Don’t eat that quickly, I’m afraid that you’ll choke.”

“You’re going to rescue me then”, he licked his fingers.

“When are you going to work?”, Loki changed the subject suddenly.

Thor knew why. _You’re going to rescue me then._ As if that were true, but Loki was never long enough with Thor to save him. To pulled them out from the swamp, they both were drowning. Sometimes he thought that if only they were together all the time, everything would be different. Maybe they would left the city and people behind, found a new place where no one would know them. Where no one would ask. Maybe if he asked, but those words were not able to get out from his throat, and Loki even if he knew, never let him know about it. He never said anything. Instead he run, go away, then came back to him. Rain after a long draught. Bitter laugh grew in Thor’s lungs for the ridiculous comparison. Romantic. Between them there was nothing like that and never will be. Even those sweet mornings, days spent together. Always something was hidden in it, something more. It was easy to talk about love, hear it and repeat it every day. It was harder to love this way, to understand. Despite this, he repeated his words of love, as a spell that would change everything. A spell and a ward from the darkness.

“2 pm., we have some time for ourselves. Unless you have other plans.”

“No, I don’t have any.”

“We can go somewhere. Park or movies. Would you like to?”

“Mmm”, he nodded and hugged him “Let’s go and see the ocean, just for a few hours before you have to go back.”

“Anything for you, Loki” he kissed black strands of hair and embraced him.

The following days were alike, beautiful in its monotony and repetition. Thor would wake up in the morning, usually next to his brother, sometimes alone when Loki has a good day and brought coffee or breakfast. They were trying to rebuild what had fell apart when they were alone . It was better with every passing minute, they were returning to old gestures and glances. Nightmares were all around them, in them, but those were the moments  when it was easier to push them aside, although never to forgot about it.

Loki was trying, Thor saw it in every second, when his brother was silent with their friends, when he didn’t even try to fight with Sif again for a single glance or breath. It wasn’t perfect, but he was able to appreciate it and return the favour as best as he could. He was coming back home immediately after work, just for Loki, not pushing for meeting with others, knowing how much his brother hates it, though he always hid well his irritation and anxiety. Thor didn’t want to think that one daw he will wake up in an empty apartment and that all what would be left of his brother, would be a piece of paper with one outlined sentence. The cycle would repeat itself again and again. He would be alone again, waiting for him. Loki would then come back and they would fight for each other, with each other, just to feel again that they were really together, just within their hands reach. Now they were, but nothing could last forever, no matter how much he wanted it. He tried to stop it, many times. He screamed, asked, fussed about but Loki just shook his head,  turned away from him, saying that was his job and he couldn’t do it otherwise. But he promised that one day it would be all over.

Patience. Thor has never been patient. The tiniest thing could put him out of balance. _Hot headed,_ his mother was telling while she was still alive. Maybe if she realized earlier they would fix it. Him. Not only Loki was broken, as they all thought. He was never able to put all the pieces of himself together, to mend the cracks in him. When he was a child, the problem was not very visible. Fights thrown here and there were blamed on the impulsive nature and childish behaviour, just as quarrels between friends. Odin used to said that children, especially boys, would often fight and they would forget about it after a while to be best friends again. Only Loki, who was with him all the time, saw that something was wrong. That it wasn’t a mere annoyance and impulsivity. As they grew older, little has changed or calmed down, but Thor learnt to hide it, at least partially.  He restrained himself not to hurt anyone who was close to him. There was a fear that one day he would break, explode and the only one, true victim wouldn’t be him but Loki, who were always near him, trying to calm him down, to help him forgetting. Blood was buzzing in his veins, when they screamed and pulled at each other. Sometimes Thor was hitting the wall, plaster would drop, scraps dig into wounded knuckles. There was no pain, nothing but white noise in his head, a pressure that had to find its way out. His job didn’t help. But he couldn’t give it up. Sometimes, he just clenched his fists so tightly that the blood stopped flowing to his fingers for long seconds. After the explosions of anger, fear and painful feelings appeared to burn him from the inside.

 _You’re not like him, Thor. You’re not him and you’ll never be._ He didn’t want to believe when Loki held him firmly by the arm and repeat the same sentence, with monotone voice for a thousandth time, as the pressure gone down and his shoulders loosened slightly. He wasn’t their father, not yet. Thor forced Loki to made a promise, one of those difficult ones. When everything would go bad that he couldn’t be saved, Loki would leave him. That would be the best and easiest way. He didn’t know that his younger brother lied to him that day.

He felt. No. He knew that Loki would soon disappear. It was barely a month. Lazy, quiet month and Thor knew it wouldn’t last long. The first signs were easy to read. Phones, that his brother picked usually in another room, conversations carried out in a low voice. When he learnt about them for a first time, he was furious. Jealous, even though he knew that he hadn’t right to be so. Loki said that it was his job and Thor had to stop acting like a child. An hour after that argument they had sex, perhaps the most intense in their life. The one that left bruises and scratches until the next time. Now Thor wasn’t jealous, but the rage didn’t pass. He still had no idea who was calling and why Loki behaves so strangely but he knew that he would lose his brother for the next months. And that he would be all alone, because Loki wanted to have some time for himself and his work. Sometimes Thor could be a pretty damned bastard, if he wanted to. It would be a little easier if Loki explained anything. If he said where he works, with whom and when he would come back, but he always evading, deceiving, saying that it was his private matter. They both were great at ruining their lives with it.

Thor came back early from work and saw Loki, who was packing his travel bag. Younger brother turned away from him, trying to stuff his jeans into the bag. Thor wanted to took that bloody luggage, throw it against the wall and forbid Loki to go. He would even threaten that this time he would really change the lock, but usually Thor restrained himself from making empty promises.  He would always wait for Loki, no matter what, but it still broke his heart. He left Loki alone with his things, and went into the kitchen. On his way there, he took a pack of cigarettes, that he left on that table. _I’m not addicted, yet._ The stone in the lighter gritted when he fired one of cigs. Grey smoke was dancing under the ceiling. He was afraid, not angry but afraid that Loki wouldn’t come back this time. Smoke irked his throat, choking him like never before. Ash fell on the floor. He closed his eyes, not wanting to think, to plan, to wonder. He had no idea for how long he would be alone this time. Sometimes  they were days, sometimes months. But it was always the same. Suddenly he felt a narrow hand on his shoulder. The first impulse was to knock it off or break all of its fingers. The touch  scorched his, as if Loki’s hand was made of fire. Instead, he squeezed it gently, entwining his fingers with him.

“I’ll come back quickly this time,” he heard “I promise.”

“Will you?” he still didn’t want to open his eyes, it was easier that way.

Easier not to see the perfect blank face if his brother, who tried to calm him down. He wanted to hit the wall, smash something. Hit Loki. Thor pursed his lips. He hated this one particular thought, that appeared in his head from time to time. Knowledge that if he didn’t control himself, he would hurt his brother. That he would be like his father. And Loki would take it, as he took it over the years from the hands of Odin, no longer trying to defend himself.

“Thor, please. Let’s not start this again,” he leaned over and kissed him on the forehead, “We’ll talk about it when I get back, this time for real.”

“I don’t believe you,” he sighed quietly, trying to keep this moment forever in his mind, every second, minute spent together that month.

“You don’t trust me?” Loki’s lips were still so close to his skin.

“I’m afraid.”

Loki took a smouldering cigarette and put it in the ashtray. Moments later, he sat down on Thor’s lap, face to face. This time, Thor opened his eyes, knowing that he couldn’t get away from this. His brother was paler than usual, tired. He smiled weakly, maybe in attempt to assure Thor of something but he didn’t know for sure. Thor grabbed him gently around the waist. He needed this, the touch, knowing that Loki is still there. That he will be for next several hours.

“What can I say to make it better?”

“I’m supposed to comfort you. I’m older after all,” he sighed resignedly.

“Two years is no difference, really,” Loki rolled his eyes “I can promise you that this time it will only take a few days, maybe a week and then I’ll stay for good,” he kissed Thor just behind the ear “Just one week, Thor.”

“And you’ll say nothing more, right? You won’t explain anything,” he said  “I don’t know where you go, why you do this. You leave me alone and you think everything is fine because in the end you will come back?”

“You don’t want me back?” Loki suddenly stiffened in his arms.

“I don’t want you to go.”

“We talked about this,” Loki was quiet, too quiet, his voice was perfectly balanced.

“I still hate it,” he reached to his neck.

Loki looked at him, surprised and intrigued at the same time. He was curious what it was all about. Thor took a deep breath. He knew it was silly and sentimental, but he couldn’t help himself.  Not this time. Clumsy fingers unhook a chain with a hammer, which he got from his mother. Warrior’s hammer made of silver, the only memento of Frigga that he got. Their father took everything else. He took another deep breath. Finally he clasped it around Loki’s neck.

“Thor, it’s a gift from mother…,” he said.

“I know. You’ll give it back, when you’ll return home.”

“Thor.”

Loki buried himself in Thor’s arms, as if he wanted to get under his skin. Slender fingers dug into his brother’s t-shirt. Thor stroked his hair, listened to his breath, heart beating. Idiotic, sentimental gesture, that seemed to be right. Loki should make fun of him, say something malicious, but his brother was silent, still so close to him, not wanting to let him go.

“I have a plane in the morning, I won’t wake you,” Thor heard after the infinitely long moment.

“Leave me a note. Ok?”

Loki nodded. 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big thanks goes to FireWithFire for helping with translation and to Andae for being my best beta ever.

It was raining in Seattle, as usual at this time of the year.  The droplets of rain were running down the car window, Loki watched the buildings while they were driving. Svadilfari was sitting in silence, he has never been a talkative person and maybe that’s why they have been getting along so well. Loki didn’t like him, didn’t trust him, but still considered him to be an excellent professional and the best teacher he could ever have. He knew only Svadilfari’s name and that he was working in this business for fifteen years. His teacher was rewarded for this piece of information in exactly the same way, he only gave his name and age. More information was unnecessary and would interfere with his work. Loki ran a hand over his, too short hair. He always preferred them longer, like Thor, but it was too risky to have them that way in this job. Brown, paper envelope was lying on the seat, next to him. He didn’t look at it since the beginning of the ride as if he wanted to push this moment as far as he could. He didn’t like this hob, but he got used to it. In the end, Loki had learned nothing else in his life. He barely graduated from high school, even though he was capable of getting better grades, but situation at home hadn’t helped at all. Thor wanted something better for Loki, to go to college, find a good job, but Loki said no. He needed money to move into a place where no one would know who they were, and where he could forget about everything and just live with his brother. The job was perfect to earn money for that. He still was sick when he thought about it, though he hoped that after three years it will be much easier, that he would be more immune to everything. He was wrong. Svadilfari claimed that it was Loki’s fault, that he was too young for this, but Loki knew that his age didn’t have anything to do with it. He ran his fingers over his chest, touching the pendant hidden under a loose blouse. When he found the slight bulge, he breathed a sigh of relief. Stupid feeling of confidence, after all, it was all he needed.

“You’re extremely quiet,” Svadilfari said.

“I’m always quiet,” he shrugged then stare at the buildings outside.

“Yes, you are. I appreciate that about you, not speaking in vain.”

“As you are doing now?” he raised one eyebrow “What about my break?”

“Did you think about it?” they stopped at a red light “You will be out of business, and You won’t find any jobs soon, Loki. You don’t have a good position for taking a break.”

“Will I have it or not?”

“Six months. This is as much as I can give you, before they give up on you. Is it enough?”

“No, but it’s better than nothing,” Loki fell silent again.

Each time he promised himself that it would be the end. Last one and he would leave it. But whenever Svadilfari called him, he agreed, packed his bag, boarded on the first plane, and flew to him. He wasn’t sure whether he did it for money, which were the security he needed or just to get away from his life and his brother, whom he loved too much, too much to deal with it. He needed a break, some time for himself to decide whether he is able to stop or not. And if he was ready for the thing about he thought, when he picked up a gun for a first time. Man’s voice tore the silence.

“Here we are. Room two hundred and six is yours.”

“All ready?”

“Yes, you have forty-eight hours, later I will decide that you have failed and you won’t get a check.”

Loki nodded and got out of the car. Rain continued to fall, unpleasant, ice-cold drops. He walked slowly, capturing every detail around him, the exact shade of red carpet in the lobby, time of holding the elevator’s door, the number of stairs leading to the second floor. The receptionist greeted him as he put a false ID on the table. She was young, had brownish red hair and she was smiling at him sympathetically. She could be his age, and has funny wrinkles on her nose, when she spoke. He also remembered that. Thousand irrelevant information that could be useful in the least expected moment. His room was in the east wing, on the second floor. Loki choose stairs, he didn’t like elevators. Small, enclosed spaces irritated him, he felt like in a cage. When he was younger, he thought it was claustrophobia, but he didn’t feel fear, only irritation, unpleasant sensation of being imprisoned. Long corridor, brown carpet, vacuumed twice today by maids, who he saw when they were pulling their carts. He opened his door with a key card. The room was small, with one bed beside a wall, TV, a coffee table, two chairs and a wardrobe. Bathroom was separate. Nothing special or exclusive. He preferred it over apartments. Loki sat on the bed, reached for the phone. He wanted to call his brother, to say Thor that it would take only two days and soon he would be home again, but stopped at the last second, cursing his stupidity. After all it was the reason why he had two phones, one the number of which Thor didn’t know. He should have never thought about something as ridiculous as calling his brother, especially at such time, but now it was different. Thor made sure that he would return. He gave him that damned pendant, a gift from his mother. It was unfair of him to put it around his neck without permission. As if he had a right to do so. He had and Loki couldn’t understand why.

He opened the envelope reluctantly. Loki didn’t like this particular moment in his work. When he was opening it, it meant he couldn’t back out . First he drew out the photo. Slick paper, still wet. Svadilfari probably had just had them printed. A tall, muscular man, not much older than Loki. He had brown hair, hazel eyes and a scar on his jaw. Small, unnecessary details. Another piece of paper, an exact layout of house security system. Such jobs were always difficult, he could expect a melee fight, which never was good. Of course, they wouldn’t send him, if they weren’t sure that he was capable of doing it, at least that was what he wanted to thing. The Company didn’t care about him, he had the impression that it didn’t care about anyone. Loki didn’t expect nothing else. He only was doing his job, Svadilfari was his contact, nothing more. Besides him he didn’t know anyone. But, he got his checks on time, and that mattered. He had less than a million on the three accounts, enough to stop, to go to college, then get a real job and never worry about anything. They could go together, he and Thor, somewhere where they would be alone, just two of them, without those judging eyes, friends who wanted only to separate them. But always something new would appear, a desire or a dream and he took another job to have more money for it. Self-perpetuating spiral. One day he would resign, but not yet. He returned to the paper and immediately began to plan everything. He had a little time, only forty-eight hours to get to the place, kill the man and escape. And before that he had to work on a details of security, which might be considered too prejudicial to the success of the entire operation. Too little time. For the first time, he was afraid that he wouldn’t make it. That he wouldn’t come back to Thor and return him that damn pendant.

The roof was still dangerously slippery, even though it stopped raining a few hours ago. Cold touch of the tiles on his cheek, as he laid flat, trying not to breathe. Security guard who was looking after the house was dead for fifteen minutes, throat cut. Loki hid him in the dense ferns in the east side of the garden. According to his paper, he was the only one, but this time Svadilfari made a mistake. The second was in the house, along with his employer. Loki waited until all the lights went out, darkness was the best friend in this job. He licked his lips, suddenly dry. It would be harder than he thought, all because of the damned incompetence of his mentor. The first plan was very easy: kill the security guard and a dog, bypass detachment, get into the bedroom and pull the trigger two times. One bullet in a heart and second in the head. Now things got complicated. Loki couldn’t turn off the alarm when there were more people inside. Most of the lights remained lit and the windows were still protected. Marcus Townsweed certainly didn’t employ bumblers. No one in his position would. Loki stifled a short curse in his mouth. Job was becoming more difficult with each minute of waiting. The lights began to fade eventually, one by one, leaving bright only one room and a corridor on the first floor. The plan indicated that there was a bedroom there. If the security guard had a bit of common sense, he would begin his patrol there and then check the rest of the house, the garden at the end. Loki waited. If he managed to get to the bedroom shortly after the guard’s departure, he would have about twenty minutes to do the job and escape. Damn too short amount of time, considering the purpose. The bicep of the guy was slightly smaller than his head, so Loki doubted that Marcus would go without a fight. By all calculations killing him would take only ten minutes, unless he didn’t manage to shoot him in the head at first. Alarm would start immediately and he would have about two or three minutes to escape. Until then, Marcus’ pile driver should realize that something was wrong with his boss. Unless he found his dead friend first, which was quite likely too. Loki hid the body pretty well, but some were more perceptive than the others. He could still see the outline of the body between the broad leaves. He only hoped that the security guard didn’t have as good a sight as he did. _Fucking son of a bitch, you missed this in purpose._ Loki didn’t want to feed his paranoia but it wasn’t hard to connect the facts. Svadilfari framed him or made this difficult just because Loki wanted a break from work. Regardless of his sympathy at the times, his mentor was cold, always calculating killer. Someone who Loki was afraid to be one day.

He got into the house through the open window in the hallways, the biggest mistake that guard could make. Loki heard footsteps on the stairs, now more and more distant. Now he had his ten minutes, and he prayed that everything would went smoothly. He squeezed his gun tighter, holding it in place. His Beretta M9 with the silencer from Socom was lighter than the standard model, which was produced. Barely a few grams, but it did a lot of difference for Loki. Unfortunately with his figure, he couldn’t afford to have a larger and heavier calibre this time, without the risk of elbow recoil and breaking his shoulder. Svadilfari laughed at him one day, that the Beretta was a women’s pistol, perfect for the purse. Loki checked the magazine again, giving additional thirty seconds for that. He waited for a minute and when he was sure, that he didn’t hear any more steps, he gently pushed the door handle. As suspected Marcus didn’t expect him, but that didn’t mean it was much easier. Man quickly realized he had an unexpected guest, but before he could turn on the alarm, Loki shot into the buttons, probably part of  the system, judging from the sparks that went off the wall. Short circuit shut down the entire building, leaving then in a pitch-black darkness. His hearing was sharper then, after the months of training. Loki realized that now he hadn’t ten minutes, maybe three when he was lucky. Marcus didn’t have to be the last person who would be killed that night.

The man lunged at him, apparently not caring about the gun he had in his hand. Loki ducked into the right from the first strike into his throat. Townsweed know how to defend himself and, more importantly, he knew how to kill. He managed to blocked another blow by the part of his hand, just above the writs. Loki felt a sharp pain and he jumped out, his left hand was still operational even though it hurt like hell. He was lucky.  He had a wall behind him, uneven stone surface irritated skin under thin blouse. Cold beads of sweat appeared suddenly on his neck. He had to come up with something, in melee he didn’t stand a chance. _Think, if you want to live._ Loki gritted his teeth, he knew what he had to do, also he knew that pain would be unbearable. Next blow was taken in his rib, which broke soundlessly, then he shot for the first time, failed because of trembling hand, it only hit a shoulder. He started running out of air, and each successive breath was a torture. He prayed to all gods he knew, that shards of bones wouldn’t damage the lungs or either minor organs. He saw the victims on internal bleeding, who was not even aware that they were dying. Loki held his breath, one heartbeat – one round, and shot a second time in a head and a third time, in the middle of the chest. Marcus fell to the ground. Loki was sure, the man was dead. He turned and ran out of the room. Pain in his ribs slowed him down. Dozens of valuable seconds that could grant him the avoiding another fight.

The way back seemed to be obvious. He would come out in exactly the same was he entered the house. Loki hooked the rope on a window sill, hoping that it could withstand his weight. He had a little time, when he heard footsteps on the stairs.  Gritted his teeth again, and trying to ignore growing pain in his chest, he slowly began to come down. If not for a broken rib, he could jump, but his comfort ended when he screwed up his order. There was a shot right next to the head and he had to let go the rope and fell on his back. He rolled to the side, while using the shooter’s hesitation, and disappeared behind the building. He hadn’t have a time to look back and see if the guard came for him, but he was counting that man would rather take care of the corpse of his employer. Loki ran  fast, as pain in his chest allowed, not even pausing for a gulp of air. Lung pretty quickly began to burn, and short breath started to be icy, and painful as someone put thousand needles into his skin.  He stopped on the next street, when he left his car. Loki left quickly, while looking in the mirror all the time, to be sure he was safe. Paranoia. He still didn’t believe he make it.

***

_Only a few days, Thor. Maybe one week, I promise._ He repeated the his brother’s words, while lying in an empty bed. In an empty apartment. He knew how the next day would look like. Thor would seek Loki’s face in a crowd of people, falling asleep while thinking about him. It was stupid, childish and sentimental, but he didn’t even try to change that. Whenever Loki disappeared, the first week was a nightmare, empty and lonely. Thor avoided his friends and acquaintances. Then he would get used to it, until the next time. He looked at his watch, it was eight in the morning. Loki said the he had a plane early, so surely he was long on the way. Thor would lie to himself it he told that he didn’t think about his brother in every second. Where he was, what he was doing, and with who. Of only he could he would rip the answers from him, until spoken aloud. Until everyone knew. But no one could know. He dug his nails into the white sheets. Loki said the other day, that they have to keep it secret because no one would understand. Thor didn’t care, but his brother asked. He always listened to him. He reached for the phone. A couple of photos, of which Loki didn’t know, if he did, he would have had to remove them.

Maybe it was better that way. In the end there were always only the two of them. He got up from the bed, the apartment still seemed strange when he was alone. On the way to the shower he turned on the TV just to have some noise in the background, which would interfere with terrible silence. Only few hours and he would spend a long afternoon at worked, maybe met someone after, so he didn’t have to think about all those things. He dialled Hogun’s number. Asian usually had time for him, he worked in a crime lab, so he spent the whole day in front of a computer.

“What are you doing today?”

“Loki left?,” crackling sound on the other end of the line.

“It doesn’t matter,” he said “Maybe Tekken today? A couple of beers, after work?”

“Should I take someone with me?”

“You can.”

“Thor,” he heard that Hogun took a deep breath “you have to let go.”

“I don’t know what are you talking about,” he started to be defensive “11 PM I’ll be at home.”

He knew. Hogun and Fandral, repeated this to him every time. That he should let go, that Loki is an adult and Thor cannot act like a big brother all the time. They had no idea, what they were talking about.

Afternoons at work were always the same. Maybe today there were more tiresome customers who really wanted to prove themselves and the other that they were kings of life. Usually he didn’t react to their provocations, trying to be calm under the watchful eye of Sif.  However, things weren’t always so easy, they rather liked to complicate in every possible way. This time, one of the guests, encouraged by the amount of alcohol in blood decided to prove that he should get inside. It ended with broken nose and Thor landed in his boss’ office. This time it would be worse, he could feel it under his skin. Strange itching, as if something was crawling underneath. His fingertips stings just like after the touching of a battery with wet hands. He lifted his head, feeling Sif’s eyes on him.

“We had a deal,” she sighed heavily, still looking at her friend’s clenched fist “He can sue us for this.”

“He was too drunk to remember.”

“But his friends weren’t,” she got up “Are you just lose it, Thor? We could lose our licences for such actions.”

“This was the last time,” blood was still buzzing in his veins.

Metallic taste on the tongue from cut lip. Not much, but enough to memorize that moment. He tried to calm down, but it was different than usual. Too early to sort things out in his head. And that little voice, silent one, that sounded a lot like his brother. Worst moment to remember what Sif said to him one day. Worst moment to remember how much it hurt them.

“You said it thousand times. Take some time off, rest for a few days.”

“I don’t need it,” he muttered under his breath “I promise you, that was the last time.”

“I said, take a few days off,” she reached for the glass of whiskey. “Until you calm down, I don’t want to see you. What was that, Thor? What’s wrong with you?”

He clenched his fists again. It was an accident. Maybe not entirely unexpected, but still. The guy was making a fuss, so he threw him out of the club. Maybe he jerked him a little too hard and the slap on the face wasn’t a perfect reaction, but he was aggressive. Of course, Thor could just move him out, but he didn’t have time to think about it. He didn’t, right? Repeating was easy. The same thing a hundred times until he believed it. It was just a second, he should regret it, but he couldn’t bring himself to it. They guy’s had it coming. Simple solution.

“Nothing is wrong with me. I told you, he was aggressive, maybe I tugged him a little too hard.”

“You’re nervous for several days, hardly talking to anybody. It’s because Loki left again?”

_Don’t start it. Please, don’t. Not now. Don’t talk about it. Sif, please, just don’t do it. Not a word more. No, no, no._

“I’m not nervous,” he hissed through gritted teeth, which gave quite a different effect.

“Yeah, sure,” she shook her head “whenever he disappears, you starts acting like a raving madman. Or you isolate yourself, or you’re aggressive, like today. Fucking bastard.”

_One, two, three.._  She didn’t have the right to talk about Loki. Not when Thor was alone again.

“I know he’s your brother, bit you really should live separately. Preferably at the two sides of the worlds.”

_Stop… four, five, six._ Rage and anger. Nothing more.

“If he leaves, you…”

A glass standing previously on her desk hit the wall, smashing into pieces.

“Shut up, Sif!” he suddenly was standing too close to her.

Woman stepped back against the wall. Maybe if he wasn’t so angry, everything would be different. He would ask her to stop. Said, that she was wrong. But now he was alone, he had enough and she started the endless litany about Loki. Somehow she always choose the worst moment for it. He didn’t care that Sif was his friend, the closest person after his brother. He didn’t care that she was smaller, weaker. He wanted to keep her quiet. Shake her for so long that she finally cease to speak. He wanted her to disappear.

“Leave,” she said after a moment, in a low voice.

“Sif,” it sobered him immediately, when he felt a soft skin under his fingers.

He was gripping her arm so hard that it was white, like his knuckles. He didn’t even notice when he reached toward her. Thor retreated a few steps.

“Leave,” she repeated.

When he turned, he heard a sigh of relief. Thor closed the door behind him.

It was raining. Heavy, cold drops. He always like the rain, when the sky became grey and people fled to find some shelter. Empty streets, and taxis skimming the road. Huge puddles. Chill. Rain calmed his anger. He reached into his pocket, cigarettes got wet an hour ago. It looked like tobacco mush now.  Wet paper was falling apart in his fingers. He did it again. First to a man in a club, then to Sif. He tried to stop, but his fists clenched by themselves, and a silent voice in his head was weeping unpleasant words. Thor promised her, that he would be fine, that they wouldn’t have problems with him anymore. The last time, he had to take a week off. This time, he wouldn’t have a place to come back to. If only she didn’t speak, just asked him to leave. But Sif, as always, had to recall about what hurt him the most. She probably didn’t even now. Umbrellas, grey and black. Cars. Empty sidewalks. And her eyes. She was terrified, but trying to keep her blood cold. He gone too far, reacted to strongly and attacked her. Of all the people, in the world, he attacked her – his childhood friend. And he did it because she just started to complain about Loki. He laughed. It was sick. He was sick.

Rain was falling on the glass, more and more. Somewhere in the background Thor heard a thunder. Storm. Cigarette, a bottle of booze. He fell onto the couch. TV played, perfect to drown the noise of his own thought. He felt guilty, looking at the moving images, not recording them in his head. Coloured streaks, idiotic buzz. Anything was better than thinking about what he did. Somewhere in the middle was also longing for something that he lost long time ago. He and Loki. Maybe if their mother didn’t die that day, everything would be better. But she did,  she fell off, she disappeared. As if she never existed. He was just angry. And it was harder to control, every minute it was growing in him. And maybe, just maybe Thor didn’t want to control it. How much easier it would be to simply destroy everything, hit the wall, until it would disintegrate into dust. Just like that time when he nearly lost his brother. However this fear was different. It was in him and called only by him. He could have hurt her. Thor didn’t know what had stopped him from the worst, but he didn’t want to think about it. He could… No, he did hurt her. _I always screw up everything. I always fuck up everything._ Alcohol was burning in his the throat, warming him up. Almost as anger, which he always carried with him. Thor clutched cigarette in his fingers, almost breaking it. If only Loki was with him. _No, I can’t do that. I’m addicted. Addicted to you._ Another sip. His head began to buzz. He closed his eyes. Only one week.

First he heard a doorbell. He ignored it, didn’t want to see anyone. It didn’t matter, friends or strangers. Then it was knocking, or rather pounding with  fist.

“Open, I know you’re there,” the first time in his life Thor heard Hogun’s scream.

Thor blinked a few times and got to his feet, world was swaying dangerously. He opened the door, still holding a bottle of whiskey in his hand. Before he could say anything, he got punched in a face. He landed on his back. _What a waste of whiskey._ This thought was ridiculous. He was lying on the ground, nose began to sip the blood, it hurt like hell, and he just looked at the whiskey spilled on the floor. Thor could hear the words, strange sounds, curses, but he couldn’t recognized them. The second blow sobered him enough that he was able to look at the one who hit him.

“Stay away from her!”

Hogun said it. At least it sounded like it. He should. And this time, Thor really wanted to listen to him. He tried to get up, but Hogun pushed him harder. The dark eyes were full of anger, so very different from the ones that consumed Thor from the inside. Appropriate. Fair. He closed his own eyes.

“And stay away from us, too. You’re sick!”

_I will._ The door slammed so hard, that Thor wasn’t sure if they wouldn’t fly away from the hinges in a moment. His drink slowly soaked into the wooden floor. He was alone. Thor didn’t even try to stop the outbreak of laughter. Blood was flowing from his nose, on the cheek, messing his hair. He laughed, louder and louder, he didn’t feel pain anymore. He lost everything. His friends, the closest ones.  Now, there was only Loki, who was away. Too far away from him. He was alone. Thor couldn’t stop laughing.

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to apologize for my long absence here. Unfortunately my two beta's are very busy (one got a job :D and the second one is studying hard for her exams - I'm really happy for them, though :) ) so this chapter is unbetaed and probably has a lot of grammar mistakes. If you find any don't hesitate to point them so I can improve. Once again, please forgive me and accept my sincere apologize for absence and mistakes, I hope you'll like the chapter anyway.
> 
> I have it all written, but translating is really hard for me and it's taking me a lot of time. Please, bear with me a lil' bit longer.

He gritted his teeth while wrapping the elastic bandage. It still hurts with each breath, and skin blossomed with huge bruise, which shimmered with all the rainbow colors. He pulled cloth harder. It’s been a day and he was still alive. He was breathing, but this time it wasn’t really pleasant. But he was happy, it meant that there was no internal bleeding. Otherwise he wouldn’t survive even an hour after the work. Loki smiled wryly. He was lucky, damn lucky that it ended up just on that. Phone vibrated on the table. For a moment he wondered if he wanted to pick it. Svadilfari called only when something gone wrong, as he had expected. On the other hands, the fucking bastard set him up. He certainly was smiling to himself then, pleased as a cat who just caught a fat mouse. Loki reached for his phone.

“You will get a check for a lesser amount,” he heard in the phone.

“I did what you want,” Loki said, trying for naturally indifferent tone of voice.

“You left a witness, I had to clean up after you. Consider this as my fee for the service.”

For a moment he was silent, carefully analyzing the pros and cons.

“You set me up,” he finally said, still calm.

“Of course,” if he was standing next to him, Loki would happily rip out his throat.

“Why,” he played nervously with a pendant, wrapped it between his fingers until the chain tightened on his throat.

“You’re not as good as you think you are, you should keep this in mind. It was just a small reminder so you know who pay you and for what.”

In his mind he killed Svadilfari many time. Loki always would chose different scenario. Sometimes he was gentle and compassionate. He never hurried with it. Death of Svadilfari never was clean and painless. It was long, difficult, and if Loki could really kill him, he would be covered in blood. From the top of the head to the toes. He would smile widely and definitely said a prayer for him. Maybe even a fancy one, in a foreign language. He would be prepared for it. In his mind, his mentor and a teacher, should be dead from the first moment they met.

“I know who is paying me,” he smiled at his reflection in the mirror “you don’t have to anymore”.

“Are you going to run for charity?”, snort across the world.

“I quit,” he tasted his words for a while.

It wasn’t sweet or bitter. He always wondered what would it be. How would they sound, when he finally let them out. Loki thought it would be a special moment, when he would announce his employer that he quits. That he is done with this job. But now everything was so casual, easy. No fireworks. He almost felt disappointed.

“I’ll let that misheard, Loki.”

Had he sensed anger in his voice, distorted by the electronics? Loki had expected it. Perhaps there would be some threats. Or, on the contrary, Svadilfari would try to argue with him about it. He would said that they need him. Loki was prepared for every scenario. After all, he was a very reasonable young man.

“That was my last job. I quit.”

“You know, I can’t let you do that,” the words he heard were perfectly chosen, thought out and analyzed.

“I think, however, you can’t help it,” pure adrenaline, he never felt it so much like now.

He would laugh, sincerely and happily, but stopped at the last minute. He provoked Svadilfari too much, almost throw some kind of challenge at him, even if they were just words for him. Letters, which composed themselves into words and sentences.

“Do you realize, that I won’t leave it like that, my dearest?”

“Svadilfari,” he took a deep breath, ignoring the throbbing pain in his right side “Consider this as my official notice.  And yes, you’ll leave it exactly as it is. Send someone after me, you will find their heads on your doorstep. Come after me alone, and you’ll end up in sewers,” he said quietly with smooth, pleasant voice “Do you understand?”

“Are you threatening me?” so much anger sprinkled with exasperation, seasoned with surprise “Are you sure, you can handle it, Loki? And how about your brother? Can he handle it too?”

He swallowed. Loki never gave away any information, but he wasn’t stupid enough not to think that they wouldn’t checked him from top to the bottom. Certainly, they had to know about Thor for a while. But Loki know about some things too, he knew lots of secrets, dirty little cases, which never saw the light of the day. Still, he felt a twinge of fear when his mentor spoke of his older brother.

“I can kill you,” he said, sounding bored “but I also can spill everything. Police station is just thirty meters from where I am. You want all your little secrets come to light? And before you ask, yes, status of key witness will be extremely easy to get. Given what I know, and what papers I have. You still want to stop me, Svadilfari?”

He always saw himself as an intelligent and reasonable person, and reasonable people who work in this profession knew that without proper protection might not survived the next month. And they never counted on peaceful retirement plan. Getting information was not pleasant, and sometimes he had to pay a lot, but in the end he got what he needed. Ticket to normal life. Loki had always been careful, accurate. He kept every piece, every paper he received from his mentor. And he listened.

“If you think I’m bluffing, you’re really dumber than I thought,” he added “Tomorrow I want to get a check, it can be reduced by twenty thousand. Decent enough for a maid in Manhattan?”

“Loki,” his name in Svadilfari’s mouth sounded almost like a warning.

“Have a nice day, be sure to send the check,” he hung up.

He put the phone on the floor and hit it hard with his heel. It burst with a crack under his weight. He hit harder a few times, just to be sure. Several times, until it was just scraps and pieces of glass screen. He was shaking for a long time, wondering if he signed the death sentence for himself and for Thor.

***

Nose didn’t hurt as much, ice helped on the swelling. He glanced in the mirror. Fortunately nothing was broken, but maybe it might be better if Hogun didn’t restrain himself and remade Thor’s face on a piece of bleeding flesh. However, for now everything was fine, of course, as much as it possibly could be. He read a message form Sif again, wanting to make sure that it was all true. She wrote the she wouldn’t bring charges, but she never want to see him again. It was good, better than anything, for all of them. He heard the key in the lock. He has never been in the house, when Loki came back. Normally, he would be at work or out with friends. A lot had changed in the last few days.

“Thor? Are you at home?” Loki asked while walking through the doorway and seeing his brother on the couch “You should be at wo…” he stopped “What happened to you?” he put his bag and kneeled beside him.

“Nothing special,” Thor muttered “Small fight.”

“Are you all right?” narrow fingers on his face, gently touching his skin “It doesn’t look good.”

“Hogun has a heavy hand,” he said.

“Hogun? You had a fight with Hogun?” Loki raised his eyebrows “Of all the people in the world… Really? With him?”

“Yeah. It wasn’t exactly a fight,” he admitted reluctantly “He just hit me.”

“Why?”

At first he didn’t know what to say. Of course, he could lie that they had a fight and he provoked Hogun and he hit him, but Loki wouldn’t believe it. Thor has never been good at lying to his brother. He sighed quietly, suddenly he drop his eyes to the floor. Loki hated Sif, but he certainly wouldn’t be proud of him. Narrow hand on his chin made him too look his brother in the eye, again.

“Tell me what happened.”

“I mauled a customer at work,” he swallowed hard “He was aggressive, I throw him out”.

“What’s this has to do with Hogun? Well, unless he was that client.”

“No… Sif called me to the office, and…” he took a deep breath. Loki stroked his check as if he insisted to hear more and assuring at the same time, that everything will be just fine “I was furious.  At me, at this guy, at her.”

“It’s not the first time she reprimanded you. Remember when you were suspended for a few days when you have broken a hand of one of customers? Accidently,” he added.

“I tried to listen to her, but I couldn’t. I didn’t want to listen to her

“Thor, what did You do to her?” he asked quietly, still touching his cheek “Did you hurt her?”

“I smashed a glass on the wall. I just wanted her to shut up, to stop her talking about you,” he fell silent again, Loki still was close to him “I pushed her against the wall, maybe yanked her arm a bit. Nothing more, but I…”

“It’s okay,” his brother’s voice was calm and gentle.

He didn’t expect such a reaction. Actually, he didn’t know what to expect, but this was really weird. Loki said nothing, just nodded his head and kissed him gently on the forehead. Thor hugged him closely, as if he was afraid that he cannot do this, that his brother would push him away, disgusted for what he did to Sif. For what he was. But Loki was just pressing his thin lips against his skin and wove fingers into long, blond hair. Maybe he understood or just pretended, but it didn’t matter now. Thor didn’t want to think, talk or ask questions. He didn’t want to explain anything anymore cause he never were good with words. Cold lips were on his forehead, eyelids, cheeks. On his mouth.

“It’s okay, now,” he whispered a half of inch from his lips “We’re together, it’s okay”.

It shouldn’t have sound so real. It should have only been a consolation, false words that could calm him down. But it was true. There were together and Thor knew that everything will be fine from now on. No matter how sick were they agreements, such as abnormal proximity of the two brothers, who weren’t brothers at all. Now all was well. He didn’t need anything else than a gentle heartbeat and quiet breaths in silence. He only needed Loki, rest of the world could go to hell. Thor cradled his brother in his arms, reaching his hand under Loki’s shirt just to feel the cool, smooth skin. Loki hissed in pain when Thor’s fingers touched the bandage wrapped around his ribs.

“Loki?” he lifted his head.

“It’s okay,” he assured him, but Thor didn’t believe.

Not this time.

“What happened?” he asked quietly, his voice broken.

“I battered my ribs,” he sighed “We need to talk, Thor” Loki smoothen his shirt, making sure that bandage was wrapped properly, “I promise that I’ll explain everything”.

“First I’ll take you to the hospital, “Thor stood up suddenly and began to look for the keys and his jacket “Then you tell me everything”.

“Thor.”

“You’re hurt, I doubt you took a good care of yourself. We will go, they will do the x-rays, check if anything is broken”.

“Thor, please calm down”.

“I’ll take care of you, come on,” he urged him “I left you alone for five minutes and you…”

“Thor!” Loki’s raised voice brought him back to reality “Let me explain. Then you will go what you want. You will throw me out of the house or drive me to the hospital. Just let me explain,” he hissed, pressing his hand to his side “Please.”

“Loki, it can wait,” he knelt down beside him, putting his hands on Loki’s knees, “First the hospital. God knows, what happen to you, it could be dangerous.”

“I know exactly what happened,” he groaned leaning back comfortably “You’ll listen to me for five minutes, then you’ll decide what to do with me.”

“What I could do with you? He raised his eyebrows.

“I don’t know,” Loki shook his head “Just open my bag. There is everything that I want to tell you”.

Thor nodded his head and got up from the floor. He wanted to be sure that everything is fine with Loki and that he is safe. He felt his brother’s eyes on him, Loki was careful, frightened. _What happened, Loki?_ He wanted to ask, but didn’t dare. It had to be something serious, cause his brother never let him near his luggage, as if he held a smallpox or Spanish flu virus there. Or something equally dangerous. He slowly unzip black travel bag and reached blindly inside, as if it could help anything. First, he touched a thick stack of paper, hard and rough at his fingerprints. He pulled it out. Dozens of brown envelopes closely tied together with braided cord, unpleasant to the touch. He raised his head to look at Loki, the other nodded slightly. If he stopped for a moment he would saw that Loki’s lips looked like a thin line now and that his hands were shaking, though pressed to his knees. But he didn’t, untying the cord. Envelopes scattered on the floor. Thor took one of them and pulled out a couple of pages and images.

He felt that he just happened to appear in a very bad action movie or some thriller. It couldn’t be true. It had to be a joke, stupid one. Loki loved pranks, when he was younger. But what Thor saw now, was too real, that could be just a scene from a movie or some bad joke. He had seen in many times, while watching TV, and he had no doubts about what he held In his hands. On a picture, there was a young man, surrounded by his bodyguards. On the pages, some information about him. All of his habits, addictions, likes and dislikes. How the man spends his time and with whom, where he resides. Overexposed resume. And a simple word: execute. He took another envelope and another, and then another one. In every each of them were pictures, on them faces, stories written in small type on white, thin paper, which crumpled in his hands, suddenly wet with sweat. The tenth, twentieth. Still the same. Thor put it away. He didn’t fell anything. There was no anger or fear. Empty. Like a blank page, which he held in his hands few moments ago. He didn’t want to believe in it, still holding to the idea, that it was nothing. Some files, folders. Maybe they were clients of a company that Loki worked for, but when his fingers reached ice-cold metal in the bag, he knew that he couldn’t lie to himself anymore. Thor clenched his hand on the cool structure and pulled it out to look at. A small gun with a silencer. Heavy and shiny black. He looked at it for a moment, fascinated and terrified at the same time. Thor didn’t know whether he should now put the gun away or aim at his brother and demand explanation. Nothing was easy anymore. If he ever thought that anything between them was complicated, now he knew it was a lie. It was a lot worse. He put the gun to the side, and got up from his knees. He was afraid, but not of what he saw, what he understood but the fact he didn’t feel anything. It was like it never mattered. He sat down next to Loki, who was now hiding his face in his hands, shoulders shaking. Sob.

“Your work…,” he started looking for words, but none of them wanted to come to mind.

“I… wanted to deal with all of this...,” Loki mumbled still not revealing his face “I’m sorry, Thor… So sorry…”

“How many?” Thor couldn’t ask for other thing “How many people?”

“Eighty.”

“Why?” Thor didn’t feel anything, anger, that should appear, didn’t exist. Muscles weren’t tense and he didn’t hear characteristic noise.

It was like a dream, not even a nightmare. Everything looked like dipped in white, thick fog, where all he saw were Loki’s hands, in which he tried to hide. He waited for an answer, feeling that his patience was over, the weird tingling on his fingertips was returning. He forced Loki to looked at him. Green eyes now was red and swollen from tears. His delicate face looked like a skull, because of sharp and narrow cheekbones. He was pale, grey shadows on skin. Loki looked like he was dead. Rage struggled with sadness and fear.

“Loki, why?” he didn’t dare to touch him, embrace , he only put his fingers under Loki’s chin.

“I don’t know…,” Loki closed his eyes, swallowing tears, thin, pale hands was suddenly on Thor’s fingers “I’m sorry, I just wanted to make it right.”

“How on earth you thought that killing would make it right?!” Thor shouted at him, letting his frustration take on, at least for a while.

Loki wanted to turn, but he was too close the back of the couch, Thor was next to him. He curled up and hid behind his hands again, suddenly trying to occupy as little place as he could. It sobered Thor, when he saw the fear in Loki’s eyes. Well known gesture, as if Loki was trying to defend himself against something. He pulled away from him, even if only for an inch or two.

“I won’t hurt you, Loki. I just want to know,” he told with resigned voice, wanting to embrace his brother but Loki again squeezed into the back of the couch.

“It was an accident. Coincidence, from the beginning. Then it was about money…” he whispered, still trembling, arms wrapped around his knees “ your studies, this bloody work at the club. I wanted to have some money, as much as we need to leave and not worry about anything.”

“Loki, you killed eighty people only because of that?” Thor didn’t want to shout at him, didn’t want to hold him in my arms and shake it as long as he would lose consciousness “What did you think?”

“I don’t know! I don’t know what the hell I was thinking,” suddenly Thor saw an angry man instead of frightened boy “I wanted to make it good!”

Loki pushed him hard, rising quickly despite the grimace of pain on his face. He get to the door.

“I never should have started,” he said quietly, taking his jacket, “I’m sorry, it would be better if I leave now,” he put his hand on a doorknob.

 _No._ He came right behind him quickly enough to slam the door right in front of his nose. Thor embraced him gently, so as to not hurt him more, but still enough for Loki to be still. He pressed his lips to the short, black hair. Thor couldn’t done more now. He didn’t want to listen to explanations, he heard too much already, enough to make his blood froze for a moment. But it didn’t matter, not really. Loki couldn’t go away, couldn’t leave Thor alone. Thor wasn’t scared, wasn’t even angry, and it was the most terrible of all. He didn’t feel anything more, except of fear that Loki can disappear for good now. He cannot. Thor will handle this situation, they both will. He will force himself to forget, force his brother to stop. They will build it over again. Idiotic, wishful thinking, but it was all that remain for them now. He lost his friends, his whole life fell apart into pieces. He only had his brother. Only had Loki.

“We need to go to the hospital,” Thor said, still hugging him “Then we’ll talk.”

“About what?” Thor had an impression that Loki chokes on his own words.

“About anything you want. Hospital first.”

***

Rib was broken, exactly as expected. The doctor prescribed him some painkiller antitussive meds and ordered to wear an elastic band on his chest. He was lucky, that they believed in a stupid story, about him falling down the stairs. And even if they didn’t, it wasn’t his problem anymore. Thor was still nearby, acting like overprotecting mom. Loki sighed softly, he won’t be like that for long. In the end they will have to talk and somehow fixed things up and this will hurt more than broken rib. Loki leaned back on the pillow. As soon as they came back home, his brother decided that Loki has to rest, and it was best for him to  just lay down and not move to much until he will feel better. He wanted to run, to hide, never explaining anything and just wait it out, but this time he didn’t have this comfort. Lost in thoughts, he nibbled a slice of pizza while watching evening news.

“Did you take your meds?” Thor sat down next to him.

“Yes, you asked three times.”

“Good, you have to take care of yourself and…”

“Stop pretending,” Loki moved away his plate and turned his head in Thor’s direction, “Don’t act like nothing happened, because it happened.”

The silence now was kind of difficult, unpleasant. Short jerky breath and buzz of tv.

“I’m trying to understand you, Loki,” he said after a long pause “You wanted to tell me something.”

“Yes,” Loki agreed, “That was my last job. I stay, if you want me to.”

Thor nodded.

“That’s all?”

“No, not really. I don’t know how to tell you this,  I don’t want you to break my neck,” he sighed.

He wanted to make it sound like a joke, even a bad one, it would be easier that way.

“Do you think I would now? Especially after our earlier conversation?  Now, tell me the rest,” he didn’t raise his voice but Loki knew better.

Rebuilding would take a very long time.

“I dropped it, but I’m afraid that didn’t take it joyfully,” Loki was carefully watching Thor’s reactions. When he didn’t see nothing alarming, he continued, “I could have threaten my employer  a little, that in case of any troubles I would go to the police, and I also mention earlier that if he pay someone for my head, I will send that person in a cardboard, in pieces and they I will find him and pack him into similar one,” he muttered reaching for cigarettes.

“Don’t smoke for a while, you shouldn’t,” Thor sighed in response ignoring everything that Loki said.

“I’m addicted,” he snorted, after a while, hissing in pain, “One way or another, they know too much about me, and if about me also about you. They may appear on our doorstep sooner or later. I screwed up Thor, I screwed up our entire life.”

“I don’t know Loki. I think we managed to do this together. Exceptionally well.”

“Since when, you’re wiser here?”

“Since when you decided to stop being,” he growled, annoyed again, “Now what? Will we wait for them?”

“No,” it hurts to speak even with the painkillers, “I have enough money on some accounts, so we can disappear. I don’t know, maybe star everything over. Or I can give you your half, if you don’t want…”

“I think last time I clearly explained to you that I won’t go anywhere without you.”

“Yes, you did.”

“So, that’s all? We leave it all behind and go wherever we want to?”

“Yes, something like that,” he put the cigarette of, “What more can I say.”

“Nothing more,” Thor rose from the couch, “Go to sleep, Loki,” he helped his brother to his feet, “We will decide tomorrow, what to do next. And when we will leave.”

“And You? You’re not going to sleep?” he muttered when Thor tucked him in a blanket.

“I need to think,” Thor shook his head, “Sleep,” he kissed Loki on the forehead.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for such a big delay. I had to deal a bit with life :) Unfortunately translation is unbeta'ed so if you find any mistakes, don't hesitate to tell me. Next chapter (and the last one) will posted on Monday.
> 
> Enjoy!

Thor closed the door behind him. _Everything fell apart._ He was strangely peaceful, too peaceful for such a situation. He should’ve been crying, screaming, be angry, scared, or both. But probably didn’t have strength for this anymore. He resigned again. A short examination of his conscience didn’t bring anything new. Everything has already gone too far to change anything, to withdraw. If only he knew, what he should change but he has no idea. He wouldn’t leave Loki, no matter what, even though common sense told him to flee. No, it wasn’t really an option. Loki was necessary in this equation. Thor needed time, preferably the whole time of his life to even try to understand his brother’s twisted logic. Loki insisted that he did it for them. It could be partially true, but surely that was just a part of something bigger. Something he probably will never understand. There weren’t any reasons why his brother would ever thing about that kind of work. Again, he felt little stab of pain, maybe if their mother lived, and father didn’t drink. Maybe then it would be better. _You’re lying to yourself._ Past didn’t have such effects on them. Thor didn’t want to believe that Loki were able to be like that. His brother couldn’t be that cold blooded, couldn’t pull the trigger just like that, without any remorse.  Loki wasn’t like that, and even if… _You’re addicted._ Three simple words, clear and final. Now they were also scary. He loved Loki more than anything in the world, even knowing how sick and dirty feeling it was. Thor couldn’t stop, even now. He should, but he knew that in the end he would surrender. There weren’t any point to even start this battle, knowing the final outcome.  _You will be always puppet in his hands. He will be always a puppet in yours._

The following days were very quiet. They avoided each other, pacing around, stepping around at their toes. Loki kept himself at the distance, Thor weren’t coming to him. He just watched his brother with narrow eyes, still trying to justify it somehow. For the first time in his life, he discovered that he wasn’t able to.  Since they were kids, nothing was Loki’s fault. There was always someone, something to blame, never his little brother. Now Loki was guilty, and this time Thor didn’t even try to defend him. But he need him, after all. Thor couldn’t get close to him, forget even for a moment about things he learnt. He slept awfully, waking up at every noise. Sometimes, he just lay at night watching the ceiling, listening how Loki breathes with difficulty, smoking cigarette after a cigarette in their tiny kitchen. He wanted to grab him by the hand, embrace him, touch him, but he couldn’t. Not yet. Loki understood, or so it seemed. His brother spent most of the time in bedroom and didn’t bother him at all. Loki tried not to exist. For Thor this situation seemed terribly familiar. Once it was like that, but he was at the other side then. When father was drinking, they both, he and Loki, tried to disappear, not to provoke him. Thor didn’t even want to know what Loki was thinking now. On the other hand, he shouldn’t care, but he couldn’t make himself. He needed him like air. It wasn’t normal.

Every time he looked at Loki, he was seeing his slender hand holding a gun. He heard the gunshots, somewhere in the head. If only Thor could get to Loki’s mind, to get all his thoughts, the smallest scraps, but Loki didn’t offered him anything but simple, pure truth. His brother didn’t explain anything, and even if he started, it wouldn’t be enough to convince Thor. He watched him, long hours spent in one position, when he just looked at him, looking for something, he could never find. _How can you understand someone who killed eighty people just for money?_ The question hung in the air, unspoken. Thor looked for answer in every Loki’s gesture, in Loki’s words and even in himself. In Loki. But his brother never answered, he couldn’t. But Thor knew the answer _. You cannot._ There was no good explanation, no extenuating circumstances.  Only the truth. Difficult and unacceptable, but still truth. Thor didn’t understand Loki, and he never would. He will adopt it, bury it deep in himself. _How can you forgive someone who killed eighty people for money_?  He was turning a gun in his hands, his fingers stroke the silencer, brush the trigger. What Loki felt when he did it? What he thought? Did he was scared or nervous? Or maybe he just wanted to get it over with? Victims. What was their last thought before bullet pierced their skull. Did they see Loki? Did they know what will happen to them? Maybe there was understanding in their eyes _. How to forgive?_   Another question, which was simpler, but its’ weight pulled Thor to the ground. He couldn’t forgive his father, who after all, didn’t kill anyone. He couldn’t forgive himself the he didn’t react on time. How could he forgive Loki, who killed for money. The answer turned out to be even simpler than the previous one. _He couldn’t, because he shouldn’t have done that._  Loki didn’t hurt him or his loved ones. Thor only has knowledge, and Loki wasn’t guilty of it. He could go, should go away, get away from him, just like Loki did for the first time. But he stayed, and he would to the end of time. He couldn’t understand him, or forgive him, but he could just be there for Loki. He accepted the responsibility for his knowledge. Perhaps Loki was a monster. Every court, every normal person would call him a monster. It would be right. But he loved him. It wasn’t an excuse for him or for Loki, but it was the truth. He loved him and couldn’t exist without him. Thor could try, but It still would have ended in the same way.

 

“I want to understand you, Loki”, he finally said to him, as Loki walked back into the kitchen at night.

“Thor? You’re awake?”, man stopped in a mid-stride.

“Come here”.

 

Loki sat on the edge of the bed. Thor couldn’t see his face in the darkness, he only felt how thin hands were gripping a piece of blanket. He could feel a ragged breathing. Fear.

 

“I cannot understand you”, he got up on his elbows “I’ll never be able to”.

“I know. If you want, just let me take my stuff and…”

“I won’t forgive, because I can’t”, he cut Loki “Not me”.

 

Loki was silent, as if he waited for some verdict. Thor reached for his cheek, delicately stroked. His brother’s face was wet with tears.

 

“You killed them, Loki. Nothing can change that, it won’t disappear. I won’t  forget”, he sighed softly “but I still love you, I won’t leave you alone”.

“Don’t do this”,  he heard a muffled whisper “Please don’t do this, Thor”.

“Too late for that”.

He embraced Loki gently and hugged him. He didn’t want to say anything, there was no need for that. This kissed Loki’s black strands. His brother was now breathing softly, his nail were digging into Thor’s t-shirt, so much that they were white. A long moment later, he lay down next to Thor, trying to blend into his arms. Loki cried until morning.

***

Silence wasn’t gone, it weren’t enough words, but this time Loki didn’t try to change that. The finished with explanations, everything was slowly returning to normal, which it never was, but he knew that they couldn’t have it any other way. Thor accepted the truth, too calmly, but maybe it was just the calm before one of the many storms. One month and they will be able to leave. Only four weeks, thirty days, seven hundred and twenty hours. He needed time to close the last case in his former life, and then start all over again. They both need it, but Thor certainly wasn’t aware of it.

He had to get away. From the feeling of guilt that he was always the weakest of two of them. From paralyzing fear. Otherwise the story would repeat itself and he would try to leave his brother again. He promised Thor, that he would never do that again, that he wouldn’t kill anyone. He lied. There was one man, who should have been killed by him from the very beginning.  He wanted that since the first bruises appeared on his skin, since the first time he waited in a hospital with broken arm, or new stitches, they put on his eyebrow. No, even before that. When his mother fell, pushed by his father and she didn’t get up anymore. Thor didn’t understand it, he didn’t have to, it was better that way. The nightmare finally would end, the one because of it they were waking up so many times at night, in silence.

Every day he woke up early in the morning, sometimes when Thor was still asleep, and disappear for a few hours.  He waited, watching his father, like an invisible shadow. He got to know his habits. At which time Odin went to work, where he stopped for a coffee or breakfast. When he had dinner, when he was going back to his house and went to sleep. A few days later Loki was surprised to notice how everything was repetitive, routine. Odin behave exactly the same on each passing day. He would get up at six o’clock, he always took the day shift, he stopped for a coffee at seven fifteen in a small bar near the police station. Then he went on a patrol. Always on Tuesdays and Thursdays. On other days, he stayed in his office, leaving only for lunch exactly at twenty past two. After work he always went to liquor store. It certainly wasn’t new for Loki. _You’re still a drunk. Even after we left, you couldn’t stop. Or maybe finally you can drink yourself to death? It’s a pity that you didn’t do it earlier._ The house lights were on late at night. Any loud noise was drowned out by a Tv playing at home. It hurts, watching his former house every day, his father who weren’t a father anymore. But Loki’s fist clenched and his mouth was still a thin line. He didn’t move, watching all the time. Odin looked a lot worse than a few years ago. Alcohol apparently taken its toll, maybe loneliness helped too.  Grey covered the rest of blond hair, bright blue eyes – now watery, and lots of wrinkles on the face and forehead. Brownish spots on the hands, a sing of deteriorating liver. Sometimes Loki wandered, if he can let it go, let Odin drank himself to death, but he couldn’t. He had to settle his debts. So he watched and waited for the right moment.

His brother muttered something unintelligible under his breath as Loki brushed the hair from Thor’s forehead. He liked the mornings when he could wake up next to him, felt the warmth of his body. Loki was always cold, even icy. Thor warmed him in his arms, hugging close to him. He didn’t even notice how much he lacked ordinary physical contact until he ran from the first time. Loki always looked for Thor’s hand but he pretended he didn’t. He pulled away from his brother, at the same time provoking, testing if his brother comes, if he touch him, be with him. Thor always came, without a word, without questions. Even when Loki was hissing at him angrily like offended cat. Usually the heat of large hands was enough to forget his anger. He ran his finger over Thor’s nose, laughing at how quickly he frowned, trying to pull away.

 

“What time is it?”, Thor yawned, opening his eyes.

“7 AM, I have to go soon”.

“And I suppose you want some breakfast, right?” he got up “You had to wake me up so early?”

“I told you, I need to do a few thing before we leave”, Loki smiled “Protect ourselves”.

“Loki, if you let me just…”

“No”, he cut Thor off short “You did a lot for me, now let me take care of you, please”

 

Loki was well aware how that sounds, what Thor could think, but what’s done is done. Yes, he did something already, and in the end it would be right, though nobody would think that. He has difficulties to explain it to himself.

“Still, I’ll burn the stove again if I touch it”, he added in a more playful tone.

 

He was amazed at how easily he could tell such small, everyday lies. He believed that if he tell them long enough, he will finally acknowledge them as truth and everything will work out. Thor pulled off the bet, muttering something about lazy younger brothers, who could finally learn how to cook something more than water for coffee. Loki watched him go to the door. Every day could look like that. _Another week, and we we’ll be free._ He fell back on the pillow. Bright celling, cracked paint in some places created fantastic design. Soon they will be somewhere else, far away, and again he will have to get used to different bed, different view outside the window. He hated it, when he had to leave. Loki enjoyed a pleasant routine. _Maybe I’m just like him, not so different from this monster._

“Will you come to the kitchen, or you prefer to eat in bed?”, he heard from the other room.

“Bed”, he said folding his arms behind his head.

 

Why it could be so good all the time? Normally. If only he could forget, but every white line on his skin made him remember. It ached so much, as if it just stopped bleeding. He looked up again at his wrists, he did it too often. It was stupid. Stupid and weak. But on that day, it seemed like the only way out. It wasn’t even about being Odin’s son. He never wanted to be. But Thor… Thor could reject him, left him forever. So Loki took that damn piece of mirror, telling himself that it was for their own goof. That it would be easier, if he leave. After a long time he understood, though he never said it aloud. He was afraid. Now, it was better, but fear still crept under the skin. This strange kind of horror, which he couldn’t fight. It have never disappeared, even when Thor held him in his arms. It was even stronger then, but Loki still wanted the touch. He craved it so much.  Just like words, idiotic words which he laughed every time he heard them.

 

“You’re lazy”, Thor gave him a plate full of scrambled eggs, “You didn’t move even for centimetre”.

“Saving energy”, he muttered.

 

They ate in silence, sometimes exchanging longer glances and weak smiles. Thor looked as if he wondered about something, slowly picking his breakfast, poking yellowish mass. At such times, he looked much younger. His blond hair fell softly over his shoulders, face covered as he leaned over his plate. They were so different from each other, similar at the same time. As the two sides of the same coin.

“What are you wondering?”, Loki asked , reaching for a cup of coffee.

“Why Canada? The U.S. has signed contract for extradition and it’s really quite close. Despite all”.

“Who said I’m going to report myself to the nearest police station?”, Loki raised an eyebrow “They would have to force me to do this. Why Canada? Because it’s big enough to find a place to live, access to guns is quite easy and we’ve never been there”.

“ It doesn’t sound like a good reason”.

“Last time you said, I stopped being reasonable”, he shrugged “It will be good as any other. Besides Montreal looked nice on pictures I saw on the Internet”.

“It’s a big city. Do you really think it’s a good idea?”, Thor finally put his plate away and sat closer to Loki.

“Less chance that they found us there. Anyone who runs away is trying to hide in quiet, sleepy town, thinking it would be a perfect place. Of course, it’s great, but it would be also the first place where they will look for us”.

“In a big city, you can simply come across someone”, said Thor.

“And quickly get rid of the threat”, he sighed “ Trust me. I know it’s hard, but in this case, believe me, I know what I’m doing”.

“As you wish. Just… It’s cold out there”, he muttered leaning to his brother.

“Do you Brazil or China? Or Russia? Ukraine?”, Loki slowly sipped his coffee “The first set is warmer, but I’m not convinced You would like it. And the second set is in Europe, relatively safe and very cold”.

“You’re right”, Thor kissed Loki on the cheek “You are better in it than me”.

“I know. I wish I wouldn’t be”, he said suddenly, smile disappearing from his face.

 

Thor didn’t answer, just hugged Loki closer to him, patting his shoulder. There was something strange in his behaviour, something too soft. Thor always treated him as if Loki would fall apart under the slightest touch. Later Loki forced Thor, mostly with words some sharper responses. He preferred when Thor was impatient, sometimes even aggressive, than sweet and loving. There was no place for romantic moments and looking at each other’s eyes. It was easier to give up to your desires, to forget it all, not to think. However, since  that day when Thor again spoken to him, when they fell asleep against each other, it was different. Exactly the opposite of Loki wanted. Stupid sentiments, breakfasts in bed, sweet kisses, holding hands at every possible moment. Like now, when soft lips was close to his neck, and warm breath was on his skin. He closed his eyes. Loki didn’t want such tender, such devotion. Love. He didn’t deserve it , not after what he did. He wanted to fight, to pull over every touch, just like the last few years, when his brother took him form their family home. He tried to forget how it used to be. Now he remembered again. When Thor’s strong arms were wrapped around him, when he were listening to two heartbeats. It was too intimate, too good to be true.

 

“What are you doing?” he muttered.

“The usual”, Thor continued his lingering touch “What’s wrong? Should I stop?”

“No, it’s okay”, he closed his eyes.

 

It shouldn’t be like this. Thor shouldn’t be gentle, touch of his fingers can’t be so light. Loki hates it, but his body responds, though he tried to stop feeling. He still do. A kiss is short, innocent. Barely a brush of lips. Thor’s hand rises his chin, and his looking at his brother’s eyes. They’re blue, just like summer sky. Sentimental, silly comparison, but now it’s different. He smiles, as if he’s trying to hide his fear underneath. He needs anger, moment when Thor’s eyes are dark, almost black, but now he sees only love and dedication, he’ll never understand. He doesn’t want to give up, not yet. Loki dig his nails into Thor’s arms, but his brother doesn’t move away from him, doesn’t say anything. His older brother has soft lips, which now glide along the jaw, Loki’s neck. Thor bites his earlobe, purring sweet nonsenses about how green are Loki’s eyes, how they remind him of emeralds. He would laugh, it would provoke a perfect reaction, but he is silent. Sweet words that he always wanted to hear. Thor pulls his shirt, kissing skin piece by piece, drawing patterns on his body with his tongue. He is suddenly breathing faster, hands are looking for something to hold. Short, sharp nails, rakes on Thor’s shoulders, drawing bloody lines.

 

“Loki, stop this”, his name, spoken quieter than breath  “Stop, let it go”.

 

He wants to defends himself from this, run away, but he has no strength when he once again feels moist lips on his belly, his hips. Wide hands holding him in place, he can’t slip away.

Thor raises his head for a moment, smiling at him. His fingers glide along the muscles and smooth skin of Loki’s tights. Loki groans loudly when Thor bite the skin on his collarbone, again marking in with kisses. There are more than lust in green eyes. Note of fear that Thor know all too well, he had seen this so many times.

 

“Loki, let me”.

 

Loki tries to protests , but Thor is no longer listening. He grabs Loki’s ankle, hand glides up again, just after trail of kisses. It tickles the sing just below his knee, so soft there, different from Thor’s rough fingers. Breathing is rapid, jerky. They never did this before, always looking for fulfilling their desires. Always faster, harder. Now he wants to get a taste of Loki’s skin on his tongue, hear soft moans, groans, even scream. Slightly he moved Loki’s legs with his bended knee. His brother is like a drug, like cocaine. Intoxicating and addictive. Now, when he looks at him, he sees only closed eyelids and pursed lips. Loki doesn’t want to feel, doesn’t allow himself to be sensitive, vulnerable. He is still trying to fight. Thor is leaning over him, so he’s able to kisses Loki lightly on a cheek, touches clenched eyelids with his lips, kissing his forehead when frown appears. Just as if he’s trying to calm him down.

 

“Loki”, whisper next to his skin.

 

This is not their first time, though it should be. Then there were a lot of anger and tears. There were salty kisses, bitten lips, scrapes and bruises. There was fear that their father might come home drunk again. There was nothing beautiful about it, but it was a beginning. None of them had regrets. Now Thor wants it to be different, even though he feels only plain desire.

Loki shakes his head. He’s furious when Thor’s mouth closes around him, wet and warm. Still trying to push, but Thor is holding him tightly. He gives up, for a brief moment, doesn’t want to breathe anymore. He grabs his older brother’s firm wrist with his slender fingers, but he’s too weak to make him. Rough hands are still on his hips, tongue circling sensitive skin. He knows he’s close. Too close.

 

“Thor, now!”, loud groan escapes his larynx, ragged and furious.

“No”, Thor raises his head “Not yet”.

“Do it, damn it!”

 

This time, instead of answer he hears a slight click of opening. He knows that sound too well and it never been so horrible. Thor is gentle with him. Slippery fingers are first on his skin, then they slowly and carefully slide inside into him. He doesn’t feel pain, though he should, but there are only sparks of strange fire inside him. He breathes faster, feeling more kisses, hot tongue that leaves long, slippery marks on his tights, lower abdomen. Subtle, gentle movements, as if they had eternity not just those few brief moments for themselves. Pleasant sparks, each of which deprives another thought. The world is white and clean. He can’t stop moaning, trying in vain to keep it for himself, but Thor know and hears. Thor always knew what to do. Loki gives up. Caress lasts forever, until the only thing he can do is to beg for more.

 

“Please…”

 

The hands are now on his knees, tights, hips. He shakes his head, hears the words of his brother. Whispers on his skin. Maybe it’s true, and he no longer fights it. Just relax his arms and let himself drift away. A kiss is deeper, hotter, and Thor mouth are moist and red. The movements of wide hands still lazy and slow. Loki can breathe, he wants to breathe. To feel every muscle, skin patch. On him, inside him. He grabs Thor firmly by the neck, arms pulling him down.

 

“Thor, please…”

“Yes, Loki…”

 

He’s biting his lower lip when he feels Thor inside him. Slippery skin against skin. The rhythm at the beginning is slow and gentle. His hands tremble when he pressed them to Thor’s muscular back, he gives up completely.  After what seems like an eternity, Thor speeds up a bit, kissing and biting the skin on Loki’s neck. Loki holds him tightly, drawing to himself. He sinks in silence, rocked by faster and faster breathing. Deeper and deeper, but he doesn’t feel any pain. He’s no longer fighting. Loki feels safe, as never before, listening to sweet words right into his ear, placed on his moist lips. For a moment he forgets what he has done, about small, curved scars on his wrists. What matters is only Thor and his strong arms. His blue eyes, when Loki sees a lot more than he wants.

 

“I love you”, he closes his eyes, words escapes his lips.

“Loki”, he hears Thor’s ragged breath “Loki, Loki…”, like a prayer.

 

The world around vanishes. Wide hand, fingers around him, when they both seek their orgasms, that’s what matters now. Scream that sounds a lot like crying, closed between them. Thoughts are no longer circling, shallow, pointless. Loki tilts his head, allowing his brother to kiss his neck, bite it when he again feels a spark from the place that Thor’s always know how to find. He climaxes shouting his brother’s name in the silence of morning litany. His brother doesn’t stop, Loki’s words makes no sense now, and maybe he simply cannot have them distinguished from each other.

 

“I love you” he repeats.

 

It sounds so strange, yet so right when Thor finally freeze in him for a second, and then he trembles. Loki is lying under the heavy, hot body and doesn’t want anything more. Thor is smiling slightly, calming his breathing. At the end Thor lays next to him, embraces Loki and pet his short, black locks. He kisses him on the forehead, still wet from sweat. They’re so close to each other, tangled in their sighs.

 

“You’re mine, Loki” he hears a quiet hum “I love you. Never forget that”.

 

He smiles at Thor, he won’t ever forget.


	7. Chapter 7

He was looking for marks on his skin, scratches. There was nothing there, nothing but the old scars. Loki leaned his forehead against the cold surface of the mirror. If only he had something to keep on, to wake up his anger, but he remembered only kisses, sex that was different, gentle. He ran his finger through short hair, Thor never liked them. He will grow them after finishing his job. He glanced at the bag lying in the corner of the bathroom. It’s today.  Then he’ll be able to throw it away, forget about it. He crouched down beside it and pulled out a sniper rifle. It still perfectly fits his hand, maybe because he used it so many times. Loki put a finger on the trigger. Cold metal touching his body, still warm from sleep. He shouldn’t feel so good when the rifle lean heavily on his arm. Just like a child’s toy, light and graceful. He smiled wryly, getting up from the floor. Loki didn’t want to look at himself in the mirror, he knew what he would see. And this view could jeopardize his job.

He woke up barely an hour earlier, nestled in his brother’s arms. Thor was asleep, holding his hand on Loki’s hip. Loki wanted to laugh. Only few hours and everything changed, or maybe he was just delusional as always. He was still afraid, couldn’t drive away from view of his every victim, but for a moment he believed that maybe things would work out somehow. That they will leave and start all over again. _I wouldn’t have to do that._ The thought flashed through his head, a second, that made his hands began to shake again. He couldn’t give up now, not after all those preparations. Everything was planned. He just need to lie down on the roof and take a shot. And then disappear without arousing any suspicions. Loki packed a gun to his bag, rinsed his face with cold water and walked quietly out of the house.

Brown envelope was lying on the kitchen table. Completely forgotten.

 

***

 

When he woke up he had for a company only cold and empty linen in a place where Loki should be. His brother had to get up long before him. Thor called his name several times, but there was only silence. He was alone. At first, something firmly clenched in his stomach, the fear that Loki had disappeared again. Instinctively he glanced at the bedside table, on which Loki always left a message for him. This time there was no note, which could only mean that Loki went somewhere and he will probably be back soon. He got up after a while and went to the kitchen to make himself a cup of coffee, he was still sleepy.

Something was hanging in the air, though he wasn’t entirely sure about it. He never had a good intuition, now it wasn’t any different, but something was still off. Pack of cigarettes was lying on the table, Loki had to left them – first signal. His brother always carried a pack with him, and Thor unlikely believed that this time the pack was for him, because Loki had a good heart. He hadn’t. Thor shook his head, maybe it really was an accident. Still, he was alone in the house, his brother disappear God knows where, and didn’t answer any calls. Finally Thor sat down in front of the TV. Some news, boring, he jumped a pair of channels, more nonsense. There was never anything interesting in it. He glanced in the corner of the room, where usually laid a sports, black bag, even though he promised to himself and to Loki that he wouldn’t check it all the time. To prove to his brother, that he had trusted him, at least to some extent. He expected to see the familiar shape, lying between dead Fichus in a large pot and a piece of wall, but the place was empty. Tangled knot hardened in his stomach even harder. Empty. Loki had left him. He packed up and left. This time probably for goof. Thor closed his eyes and sat down on the floor. Unwanted thought that it wasn’t true, but everything else indicated to. He was alone. He hits his fist, hoping to smash the panel, but instead of wood his hand hits some paper. He opened his eyes. Brown envelope in which Loki kept records of all of his jobs. Thor took out a stack of paper filled with his brother’s handwriting. This time, among them were some names and pictures that seemed very familiar. Police station at Thirty-eight Street where their father used to work. Description of suburbs too, where they lived when they were young. In the end, a picture of small house, a place where they spent almost all of their lifes. Thirty-nine Street, some pub, hours scribbled down… Their father.

Awareness struck him as is someone hit him with a heave hammer and suddenly everything became clear. All those delaying with departure, Loki leaving him for whole days. On the last piece of paper he find a date and the address highlighted in red. Odin was Loki’s target all along. The final order that his brother wanted to do. _By God, Loki._ Once again he scanned through pages for any clues. He had no idea about the methods of the killer or sniper. All he knew was from movies. High buildings, lying on the roof, or sitting in the window. One shot and all done. Loki surely prepared everything, and was careful and thorough Thor knew that there was a tiny chance to find him now or stop him. But he had to, he couldn’t let Loki kill again. After a while Thor decided to check on a recent address, underlined in red. He was lucky. Hastily sketched words turned out to be a building left for demolition, near the pub on Thirty-nine Street. Loki could be there, waiting. Thor dressed quickly and ran out of the apartment.

 He hated his father. For broken bones, bruises, for Loki who tried to kill himself because of it. Thor hated him for vodka, wrangles and his own helplessness when he tried to shield his little brother from further blows and hits, and for all of time, when he wasn’t able too. He hated Odin for his mother’s death, the sleepless night, when he sat near the door listening to his father steps, waiting for a drunk man to fall asleep. Odin was all that Thor despised, all that he feared and hated. But he wouldn’t be able to kill him, even though he thought about it many times. Revenge for all of the pain. But he never put these plans to life. Despite all, his aggression, forever suppressed anger, he couldn’t take the life of another person. Loki could, and Thor feared about that the most. If his brother will do it, not only he will have to live with it. Thor also will have, and he wasn’t sure if he can cope with that this time. He wanted to kill Odin, to kill him hundreds of times, each time for each scar on Loki’s hands. Every time, when he looked at his fingers, crooked after Odin broke his hand. However he couldn’t, knowing that he would be just like him. Just like a monster his father was. Bus was driving too slow, the people on the pavement were moving to erratically to evade them neatly and run. It was raining. Cars were slashing deep pools of water next to the curbs. He checked for the time on his phone screen. Exactly at two fifty his father will left the bar and go to the police station, so he had fifty minutes to prevent all of this. He ran as fast as he could. The air in his lungs was pure and smooth as ice, every breath like a knife driven to his throat. Just one block away, if he hurries, he will be on time. He will convince Loki to put down the gun, to go home. Somewhere far away from here. He will still have time to fixed all fucked up things in their lives.

When he got there, he understood why Loki choose thus building. Little space between the blocks, wide street just next to the pub, a number of narrower and darker alleys when anyone could go unnoticed. It was raining harder and harder. Mud on the construction site splashed in all directions when he sank in it, running. He pushed open the wooden door with such force that it almost shattered under his hands. There was no time to check every apartment, every corner where his brother could hide. He had to try to rely on luck, or logic. Loki would use a place with windows on the south side, not too high for a precise shot, but not too low for others to see. He had three  storeys to choose. _Loki, where are you?_ Thor was breathing with difficulty, running up the broken stairs. Plaster fell of the walls and into his hair, the railing broke with a bang when he leaned agains it for a moment. His brother had to left some traces, he wasn’t a ghost, he didn’t float over the dusty and crumbled floor. Thor paused for a moment, searching for a footprint, and finally saw a long streak at the door on the first floor. Someone recently had to open them, the rest of the ground was gray from dust and sand. He opened the door.

“Stay away!”

Thor stopped when Loki pointed a gun at him, not even turning around. His brother was leaning over a rifle set on the windowsill, one finger in the trigger. Black bag and foil sheet was lying near him. Loki look like a predator. All muscles tense, he was crouched and ready to jump. Only the jump was going to be shot in the head of their father.

“Loki”, he said without moving from the spot.

“I’ll shot if you get near me”, he warned Thor, turning his head into his brother’s direction.

Thor expected to see cold, green eyes, full of hate and anger, but instead he saw fear and sadness that Loki unsuccessfully tried to hide under the angry grimace. He was like a taut string, which will burst if touched.

“Don’t do that”, he knew how stupid it sounds, but he had no idea how to begin to convince Loki otherwise.

Loki’s eyes only narrowed. It was harder than Thor thought. When he ran, he didn’t think of how convince his brother to stop. He just ran, wanted to make it, the rest would come later. It’s just that now was later, and his mind was still blank. He lowered his hands slowly.

“Go home, Thor”, Loki said quietly. “Let me finish this”.

He got two steps forward, Loki shot next to his feet. Silenced muffled the noise.

“I told you not to get near me, right?” his voice, so sure so far, now began to tremble. “Let me finish it, damn. Everything will be better, you’ll see”.

“No, it won’t be”, he snapped, adrenaline slowly began to hit his head.

The fear was gone in instant. Even if Loki was holding a gun to his temple, Thor would feel only angel, nothing more. Like now. He was furious. For himself, for his father. And his brother, who decided to settle the matter once and for all. But what would that have achieved? The next corpse, eighty-first person, this time with a name that they both knew all too well. With a history that also belonged to them.

“It will be!” he hissed, and again bent over the viewfinder.

He still held his gun towards Thor, but now all of his attention was focused on a telescope, or the street. He moved his rifle slowly, as if following his target. Thor knew that now he has just a few seconds to take another few steps closer. He didn’t foresee that at the third step, Loki again drawn gun at his side, pointing straight at his chest.

“You’ve never wanted to kill him?” Loki asked, still holding a gun. “For all he did to us”.

“I wanted to…” Thor said after a moment that seemed like an eternity, but in reality it could last only a few seconds, “for every scar in your wrists, for broken bones, bruises”, he said quietly. “For the fact that you were scared and crying at nights. For the fact that I couldn’t protect you.”

“See?!” suddenly Loki’s voice was higher by a few tones, shrill, “He destroyed us both!. He fucked up our lives. Why the fuck he should happily drink himself to death and don’t give a fuck about anything? Living comfortably, without any consequences? Tell me! Why the hell I shouldn’t kill him? He tried to kill us. Both of us!”

“I know. But doing this won’t change what was back then”, Thor was desperately looking for the right words, not knowing what else he can do.

“At least, I’ll heave a bit satisfaction of knowing that bastard is dead!”

“And you will be able to live with it?” he completely ignored the gun in his brother’s hand and took another two steps. “Will you?”

“Yes, damn it. I will!”

Heavy raindrops hit the window sill, the floor creaked under the feet, the sound of car engines on the wet streets. Somewhere in the distance a signal of an ambulance. Taxi horn, which were gliding noiselessly. People walking along the sidewalks, running away from the rain. New York in its grays, flooded with water, cold and empty. A place as any other. To remember and forget things. They stand barely few feet from each other. Close, but at the same time as if they were on opposite ends of the world.

“Loki, I’m sorry”, he said taking the last step, “I’m sorry that I couldn’t help, that I didn’t know how. That I wasn’t there when mom died”.

“He beat us, he drank. Not you!”, Loki shouted. “Why are you sorry? Did you beat me up so I couldn’t get up from bed for a week? Did you break your own hand on the door frame when they closed? Did you pushed our mother from the stairs?”

“Loki, I beg you, don’t do it”, he felt tears coming to his eyes, “You promised me… Leave it. We will leave this place, to the damn Canada, whatever you want. Just please, leave it…”

Loki shook his head, pressing his lips. He dropped the gun, but his other hand was still on his rifle.

 

***

 

Thor hadn’t right to stop him. Hadn’t right to tell him what was right and what wasn’t. Odin had to die for them to have a normal life again, to be able to forget. How the hell Thor found him here? How did he know? Envelope! _I left my envelope._ He made a mistake. The simplest, stupidest mistake. He allowed himself a moment of breathe and forgot to take out of the apartment everything that suggested where he went. But why? What could make him suddenly so reckless. Thor. His behavior, quite different from that which he knew and remember. Silent presence, the sensitivity. He tried to pushed it into himself, he believed that he did. He was wrong, as evidenced by the papers lying on the floor at home, surely in place where he had put that fucking bag.  And now his brother was there, trying to convince him to put down his weapon. To forget about everything. To stop.

Images were running under half-closed eyes, like a silent movie.  Frame pulled out of life. Screams, hits, pain. And the tears. Hell of a lot of tears, the he could never resist. Father hitting at night to the door of their room. Thor who hugged him closely, calming him. Glass on the floor, blood on white tiles, a hospital. Kisses, sex. Killing. Muscles ached terribly, as if someone was pining hundreds of needles, burning fingertips. It was increasingly harder to breathe. He bent down to pick a gun, which he dropped earlier, before Thor would take it. He held it tightly, looking at his knuckles turned white. His brother shouldn’t  apologize, he did what he could. He always has been doing everything he could for Loki. The older brother, who suddenly became Loki’s whole world. Hell of a drug, air. He turned back, toward the rifle and wiped the tears suddenly flowed down his cheeks. The door to pub opened. Odin just went out into the street. He put the Beretta on the windowsill and prepared to shot. _Breathe. Everything will be fine. Breathe._ But he still couldn’t catch his breath as he listened to his brother’s pleading voice. His words hurt more than anything else, hurt to the bone, breaking into his body, pushing claws into his muscles. Penetrate him.

“Loki, I’m sorry for everything I did and for those things I wasn’t able to do. Do not kill him, do not became him. I beg you, brother. I cannot lose you, Loki”.

“You won’t”, he said choking on his own voice.

“I will, if you shoot. Do not leave me, Loki”, Thor whispered through his tears, so close to him. To close.

He will have just one minute before Odin disappear from the line of fire. It was easy to put finger on a trigger, pull gently, press here and there. Breathe. It was easy to kill him, watching through the telescope as blood flowed from tiny hole in a skull of his father. He was waiting so long for this moment, for his… No, not only his. Their freedom. Car passed his father, splashed some water on him. He stared down on a small human figure. The man who destroyed his world. With just a few hundred meters he looked so tiny, helpless. It was enough to pull the trigger. Poof and end. Just this persistent voice in his head and beyond. Thor’s voice, who was talking to him, begging him, and his own which considered for the thousandth time to hold his breath and shot. Thirty seconds until Odin will pass on the other side of the street and disappear from sight.

“Loki”, Thor puts his hand on Loki’s shoulder, “Please, stay with me”.

Twenty second, fifteen, eight. He held his breath. Five, three. Thor’s  hot fingers gripping material oh his t-shirt, his own tears that fell back on the cold metal rifle. One. Zero. He let out a breath. Odin disappeared behind the alley.

Thor’s arms are warm, when he is in them, he feels safe. He feels as if he where whole. Breath of his brother is fast, nervous, but so certain close to his ear. Just as the words that he barely here, adrenaline still pumping through his veins, dampens all sounds. Touch is soothing, pleasant. It doesn’t hurt like before. It’s easier to give up, stop choking on tears. He can finally put his hands along the body, doesn’t  feel smooth metal under his fingertips. He can breathe deeply, without effort.

“It’s your fault… I couldn’t do it”, Loki mutters under his breath.

His brother’s words come to him from a distance, echo in his mind.

“Of all the things I am or I am not guilty, I gladly take responsibility for this one”.

Thor’s arms are warm, Loki cannot imagine any other place where he should be now.

 

***

 

The road was long and straight. Pretty empty, when passing through uninhabited areas. A warm wind which was blowing through the open window, danced in his hair. Loki lit up a cigarette, inhaled, appreciating the view. Only sound of the engine and their mingled breaths.

“I could use a cigarette”,  Thor said, changing gears.

“You’re driving. You will smoke, when we stop”, he blew smoke out the window smiling slightly, “If you had let me drive…”

“You don’t have a driving license”.

“I have”.

“A fake one”.

“My ID is also fake”, he snorted unhappy, “But that doesn’t mean I am less me. You’re tedious”.

“I care about my little brother”.

Loki put his cigarette into Thor’s lips. Thor smiled, and inhaled.

“What now?”, he asked after a moment.

“I don’t know”, Loki shrugged, “We have to see for ourselves”,  he dropped the cigarette out of the car, “It will be damn hard”.

“It has always been”.

“I know”, Loki closed his eyes and corners of his lips lift up a little, forcing a smile, “We are addicted. Both of us. From the pain, from hurting each other. From each other”.

“Yeah, I think so”.

 

Silence, the remnants of cigarette smoke and straight, empty road.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So that's it. I hope you liked the story and didn't mind my grammar or spelling mistakes :) Thank You all for comments and kudos :) It was great!


End file.
